


Sanguis Daemoniorum

by ariannon



Series: Bloodlines [2]
Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Past Abuse, Slow Burn, The Alec/Simon is low key and mostly in the second half
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-07-14 02:37:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7149308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariannon/pseuds/ariannon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clary and the others were left shaken after their encounter with Whitehawk, but Clary is more determined than ever to rescue her mother. But when reinforcements arrive, finding her is far from their top priority and Clary begins to wonder who she can really trust. When she and Jace break off to find Jocelyn on their own, it's not long before they find themselves in over their heads.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The silence in the living room at Blackstone was tense and angry. Jace was glowering silently at the coffee table and I just felt . . . numb. Luke had shifted back to human form and we were all standing around, too anxious to sit, waiting for someone to speak.

“I'm glad you're safe, Jace,” Isabelle said at last.

He looked at her coldly and said nothing.

“We have to talk to Central Authority,” Alec murmured, half to himself. “They need to know what's happened.”

“Yeah,” Isabelle agreed.

“Is there anything you can add, Jace?” Alec asked.

“Like what?” Jace snapped. “Whitehawk's alive? And a dick?”

“Is it the cup he's looking for?” Luke asked.

“Yeah,” Jace muttered.

“Do they know where it is?” Alec pressed.

Jace was silent for a long moment. “No,” he said at last, “they don't.”

Isabelle let out a breath. “At least there's that,” she murmured. “Who knows what they might do if they got their hands on it again.”

“We all saw what one round of demon blood did to them,” Alec agreed. “I'd hate to see what they could do with more of that poison running through their veins. It's no wonder they're so dangerous.”

Jace snorted loudly.

“Something to add?” I muttered.

“What, he didn't tell you?” Jace jerked his head at Luke.

Luke looked back at him silently.

“Tell us what?” Alec asked.

“We've all got demon blood in us,” Jace told him with a grim chuckle. “They proved it. We're no different from them.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“Wait a minute,” Simon said after a long moment had passed. “I'm confused.”

“Of course you are,” Jace muttered.

Alec shook his head. “Central Authority would have told us.”

“Yeah that would have been a brilliant political move,” Jace sneered. “'The maniac's right! Go side with him!' They proved it, Alec – Luke and Jocelyn and Whitehawk, they proved it.”

“Is that true?” Alec asked quietly, turning to Luke.

Luke glanced at Jace unhappily and said, “Yes.”

“Then Whitehawk's right,” Alec murmured.

“Whitehawk's a terrorist,” Luke replied sharply. “Let's not give him too much credit.”

“But we are part demon, right?” Jace snapped. “The truth is, we're no better than him.” As he spoke, his icy blue eyes fixed on me for a moment, then flicked away distastefully.

Before anyone could say anything else, he turned and walked out of the room.

I watched him go with narrowed eyes, then looked back at the others. Isabelle was staring down at the floor, her arms wrapped defensively around herself. Alec clenched and unclenched his hands, his mind obviously working furiously behind an expressionless mask. Simon only looked at me and shrugged helplessly.

“Well,” said Isabelle, attempting a cheerful tone, “maybe we should . . .” She faltered and shot a glance at Alec. She bit her lip. “I think I need a second,” she muttered and left.

Alec barely reacted. He only turned to Luke and said, “I need to call Idris. Since I obviously don't have all the details, it would help If you were there, too.” His voice was quiet, blank.

“Sure,” Luke said, nodding.

As the two of them left, I turned to Simon, who had collapsed tiredly on the couch. “Well, that was unpleasant,” I muttered.

“It kind of makes sense when you think about it,” he replied. “Like half-vampires hunting vampires, the offspring killing their parents – it's not like there isn't precedent.”

“Do me a favour and keep that insight to yourself,” I said.

“Of course,” he replied. “I'm not an animal.”

I grimaced. “Speaking of . . .” I probably ought to go find where Jace had gone off to. “I'm sorry about all this. You can go home if you want.”

“I know,” Simon said. “But this couch is so comfy . . . I think I'm stuck.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Need a hand?”

He shook his head. “I've accepted it,” he said. “This is my home now.”

“Alright, well, have fun,” I said and went to look for Jace.

I found him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. He looked up as I came in, only to roll his eyes and look away.

I pursed my lips, regarding him narrowly. “Well,” I said, “I'm not entirely sure what happened back there, but I think even you could have handled that better.”

He turned to face me and folded his arms firmly over his chest. “I just told them the truth,” he said, his jaw tight.

“You didn't have to be an ass about it,” I muttered. Admittedly, that was how he handled everything, but that hardly made it okay.

His cold blue eyes narrowed. “Did you seriously think I'd get back and suddenly everything would be all sunshine and flowers?” he sneered. “Am I not acting grateful enough for you?”

“Screw your gratitude,” I snapped. “Alec and Isabelle are your family and they deserved better.”

“I don't have a family,” Jace replied in a clipped tone.

"Bullshit.” I met his icy gaze levelly, refusing to back down.

“What do you know about family anyway?” he hissed. “You left your own mother behind.”

This new line of attack caught me off guard and I blinked, staggered. “I didn't have a choice,” I told him, my throat tight.

“That's bullshit,” Jace said. “There's always a choice. That's just what people tell themselves when they know they chose wrong.”

I shook my head. “I'm not doing this with you, right now,” I muttered.

“Hey, you're the one who came in here yelling at me about family,” he bit out.

“You think this is hard for you?” I snapped. “She's my mom! You knew her for a day – I've known her my whole life! So don't think for a second that this is any easier for me.”

My heart was pounding and I felt tears building at the corners of my eyes, but I clenched my jaw fiercely, determined to keep them in check.

“Maybe I didn't know her as long,” Jace said coldly, “but I never could have done what you did.”

“You weren't there,” I growled. I noticed my lip trembling and I bit down on it angrily.

Jace's eyes flashed. “And if she told you to put a gun to her head and pull the trigger, would you have done that, too?”

“That's not what happened!” I burst out.

“It might as well be.”

I could hardly breathe. “Jace, stop.”

He went on as if I hadn't spoken. “The black eye, the bullet wound – that's just the beginning! That's just what you can see.”

My eyes were burning and I swallowed, desperate for air.

“He used truth glyphs on her,” he hissed, taking a step closer to me. “And I can tell you from personal fucking experience that those things are hell. They take away your free will, make you tell all your secrets.” He paused. “She managed to keep you a secret, though.”

I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the water gather at the corners. “Stop,” I breathed, the word barely audible.

“What do you think he'll do to her now that he knows about you? Knows she kept you from him -”

“Jace, stop! Please!” The tears were rolling freely down my cheeks now, and I was shaking violently.

Jace fell silent and his eyes widened as if seeing me for the first time. “Shit,” he breathed. “Look . . . Clary -” He started to reach towards me, only to stop short, clenching his hand into a fist and letting it fall back to his side. Then he just swore and pushed past me out of the room.

I didn't watch him go. I just leaned against the counter, wracked with sobs. It was a long time before I could breathe again and my head ached dully. By the time the tears stopped, I just felt empty, drained.

“Clary?”

The voice in the doorway made me stiffen, my breath drawing in sharply. I swallowed and turned to see Luke standing behind me.

“Hi,” I said hoarsely.

“Jace just went storming past . . .”

“He can go right to hell,” I muttered, to exhausted to put any real fire in it.

“I have that meeting with Alec,” Luke told me. “I'll probably be in there for a while. Is there anything you need? Anything I can do?”

“Can you magically make my mom be here safe?” I asked. “Or else make Whitehawk be dead – painfully?”

“I'll do my best?” he replied, drawing me into a hug.

“Good,” I said, the word muffled by his shoulder. I drew back at last. “Go to your meeting; I'll be fine.”

Nearly an hour later, he and Alec were still locked away in the study. Simon was solidly passed out on the couch and – at least judging by the music blasting out of her room – Isabelle was still taking a second to sort things out. Jace, perhaps fortunately, seemed to have vanished altogether.

Exhausted though I was, I was too restless to sleep so I'd just started pacing. It was hardly a small house but even so, the path started to get repetitive after a while. I was on my ninth circuit of the house when the phone in the kitchen rang suddenly, making me jump.

I looked around quickly, but everyone else was either busy or asleep. I considered just letting it go to voicemail but then decided it might be important.

I picked up the phone reluctantly on the second ring. “Hello?” I said. Was there some tag I was supposed to add? 'Shadowhunters Inc.! For all you demon hunting needs!'

“Clary!” came the voice on the other end of the line. “I didn't expect to speak to you again so soon.”

I frowned, unsure of who was speaking. “Me neither,” I said slowly.

“It seems you survived last night's excursion,” the voice went on. “Was my map a help to you?”

Magnus. Of course. “Yes,” I said, forcing the muscles in my neck to relax. “Thank you.”

“Were you successful? Did you get your mother back safely?”

I grimaced. “Not . . . as such.”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line. “I'm sorry to hear that.”

I shook my head. “What did you call to talk about?” Back to business.

“Ah, yes,” he said. “I'm at The Green Man and I think I may have found something that belongs to you.”

I frowned, trying to think if anything had gone missing. It certainly wasn't implausible, given the chaos the last time I'd been there. “What's it look like?' I asked.

“Tall, blond, blue eyes, couple of tattoos – I figured he had to be one of yours.”

“Jace,” I muttered, scowling. “Thanks for letting me know,” I said. “I'll be there as soon as I can.”

“Excellent,” Magnus said. “Goodbye, then.” He hung up before I could say anything else.

I shrugged, hung up the phone, and started making my way to the garage. I wondered if I should fetch one of the others but they all seemed busy, and with Jace involved, I probably didn't have a lot of time.

With a little looking, I found the keys to a discreet, black car and pulled out of the garage. It wasn't far but thhe combination of a couple wrong turns and actually following basic traffic laws meant that it took nearly twice as long to get there as it would have taken Alec or Isabelle.

I parked quickly and hurried to the Blockbuster, barely pausing at the doors. After the bright sunlight outside, it took me a moment to adjust to the dimly lit bar scene on the other side of the doors.

When I could see again, I scanned the room for Magnus but I saw Jace first. He was pinned against the wall on the far side of the room, surrounded by three very menacing and angry looking downworlders. The one in the middle was doing her best to beat him into the wall and, judging by the blood on his face, she'd been at it for a while.

“Hey!” I yelled.

I reached them just as she drew back for another strike and I managed to wedge myself between her and Jace.

Her lip curled up in a snarl and she started to reach for me when a deep voice spoke behind her.

“Leave the girl alone. She's on our side.”

I looked up to see Raphael looming over her shoulder.

She still seemed unconvinced so I said, “Look, I know you're pissed – and, knowing him, I'm sure you have a good reason!”

At least I had her attention now. I took a deep breath. “The thing is, I need him – you know, alive – so if you'd just stop wailing on him for a second, I promise I'll get him out of here.”

She narrowed her eyes, considering, and finally stepped back. “You should teach your friend some manners,:” she growled.

I sighed with relief. “I'm trying,” I said.

Thankfully, after that, she left, taking her friends with her.

I glanced up at Raphael and smiled. “It's good to see you,” I said. “I wasn't sure if you made it.”

He grinned. “I'm not dying any time soon.”

“Thanks for stepping in just then.”

He leaned in a little, as if to confide in me. “I like you,” he said with a friendly smile. “You don't die easy.” Then, with a genial nod, he went back to his drink.

I took a deep breath and turned back to Jace. He looked awful, with blood dripping from his nose and several small cuts across his face. I would have felt sorry for him if he hadn't brought it on himself.

“What are you doing here?” he snapped.

“I'm saving your ass,” I retorted. “What's it look like?”

“I didn't ask for your help,” he muttered, dabbing at a jagged cut over his eye.

“Yeah, well, you got it anyway,” I grumbled. “Deal with it.”

“No," I snapped, just as he opened his mouth to speak. “You don't talk, go clean yourself up.”

He looked at me quizzically for a moment but pushed past me to the bathroom down the hall.

I ran a hand through my hair and went to the bar. Ben the bartender eyed me warily as I approached. “What do you need?” he asked.

“Could I just get some ice?” I asked apologetically.

He nodded silently and laid a cloth across the counter, carefully filling it with ice.

“I'm really sorry about all this,” I muttered. “We'll be out of your hair in a minute.”

“This place has seen worse,” he replied quietly. “People who come here looking for trouble don't have to look very hard.”

“Did you see what happened?”

Ben fixed his strange, ageless eyes on me. “I didn't see anything,” he replied. “Here's your ice.”

“Thanks,” I said, and went to go get Jace.

I hesitated outside the bathroom door, steadying myself, then pushed inside.

Despite the glare he shot in my direction, Jace did look a little better with all the blood gone. On the other hand, it made his injuries stand out more starkly. His lip was split and puffy and there was a swelling knot under his eye that was already turning an interesting shade of purple.

My lips twisted unhappily.

“You could knock,”' Jace muttered, dabbing at one of the new bloodstains on his shirt.

“What's the matter with you?”

He crossed him arms over his chest. “I bet any one who knows me could give you a long list.”

“Cut the crap,” I growled. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I needed some time to think,” he said, looking away.

“No,” I snapped, “thinking had nothing to do with what just happened. Seriously, Jace, if you needed someone to slap some sense into you, I'd have been more than happy to help!”

He looked back at me silently, his face unreadable.

I sighed. “I got you some ice,” I said, handing him the cloth.

He snatched it from me. “Why are you even here?” he hissed. “It's not like I asked you to come.”

“You didn't have to!” I said, exasperated.

“I don't want your help!” he snapped.

“No!” I said. “You just want to go out and start fights with a bunch of people who're supposed to be on our side.”

He snorted. “You really think they're on our side?”

“Yes, Jace,” I said in a clipped tone. “That is, unless you've gone and killed someone, or started a war in the last hour.” I hesitated. “You . . . you didn't, did you?”

“Relax,” he muttered. “But I understand your concern – that is what demons do, right?”

“You're not a fucking demon, Jace!” I burst out. I took a deep breath. “Look, I know this demon blood thing is hard for you. And I know you're mad about my mom.”

Jace's jaw worked, his blue eyes on me.

I swallowed. “But if I'm going to get her back, I don't have time for your existential crisis. So you can either help me or . . . do this.”

He didn't say anything.

I bit my lip. “I'll be in the car.”

Ten minutes later, the car door slammed and Jace slid into the passenger seat, not looking at me.

“Seat belt,” I said.

Jace didn't say anything but he reached up and buckled himself in.

The silence in the car was tense and uncomfortable but as I pulled away, I couldn't help the smile of satisfaction that spread across my face.


	2. Chapter 2

As exhausted as I was, I should have slept like the dead that night but that's not quite how it turned out. My sleep was overrun with nightmares and I woke up again and again, drenched in sweat, my heart pounding. After that had happened six or seven times, I finally gave up and got dressed. I tiptoed past Isabelle's room, trying not to wake her – that was assuming she was even alive in there. The music had gone quiet some time before I went to bed but I hadn't seen or heard anything from her since.

It was eerily quiet in the large house and I did my best to ignore the prickling at the nape of my neck as I made my way through the narrow corridor to the kitchen. I felt better in the bright light of the kitchen but it did nothing to mute the heavy silence.

I put on a pot of coffee and leaned back against the counter to wait. A glance at the clock on the microwave told me it wasn't quite five o'clock. I groaned. I so did not want to be awake right now.

But sleep patently wasn't an option so I clutched my coffee tightly and started towards the study. It wasn't my favourite room in the house, but at least I might find something to read.

As I drew closer, a faint noise made me jump and I peered intently into the shadows around me. There was nothing there but I could definitely hear something so, firming my resolve, I went in search of the source.

A quick search told me that whatever was making the noise was not on the first floor, so I wandered down to the parking garage. Everything there was still and quiet and the armoury held nothing but weapons, but I could hear the noise more clearly now, steady and repetitive: three heavy thuds, footsteps, silence, then the same thing again.

I frowned and poked my head into the last room int he basement, the only one I hadn't seen before. It was a training room of some kind, with mats on the floor punching bags along one wall, and Jace standing in the middle of the room, hurling knives at a human shaped target.

I pursed my lips. He hadn't said one word to me since I dragged him out of The Green Man and as frustrating as it could be to talk to him, I found this silence even more concerning.

“Is that me you're aiming at?” I asked finally.

He looked over his shoulder, watching me with an unreadable expression before turning back and throwing the last of his knives.

As he retrieved them from the target, I narrowed my eyes, taking a sip of coffee. I hadn't startled him – no doubt he'd heard me coming since I rolled out of bed – but he seemed to resent my presence none the less. Now doubt because I was infringing on his brooding time.

“Couldn't sleep?”

The question caught me by surprise and I blinked. “Not really,” I replied. “You neither?”

“I don't sleep much,” he told me, sending the first knife flying towards the target

I frowned. “How long have you been at this?”

He shrugged and said, “Dunno. An hour, maybe.”

I didn't imagine he'd gotten much sleep when he was locked in that cell, either. He must have been exhausted.

“Do you want some company?” I asked after a moment.

“Not especially,” he muttered, throwing the second knife.

I shrugged and turned to leave when Jace suddenly said, “Clary, wait.”

His words brought me up short and I turned back, warily.

He was watching me intently but his posture lacked it's usual air oF aggressive defiance and I noticed him fidgeting uncomfortably with the knife in his hands.

“I shouldn't have said all that stuff about your mom,” he said at last, an unfamiliar note in his voice.

I swallowed and stared down helplessly into my coffee. I'd been trying all day to block out that conversation, not even because I was angry with Jace, but because all the things he said were the same things that had been gnawing at me since the night before.

“It's not like it wasn't true,” I muttered.

There was a hesitant silence, and then Jace said, “I'm not aiming at you.”

I looked up at confusion.

“It's not you I'm picturing on that target,” he explained as he turned and hurled the last knife. It buried itself in the gut of the black silhouette. “It's Whitehawk.”

I gave a faint snort and nodded in understanding. “Makes sense,” I said as he retrieved the knives and started throwing them again. “Sounds therapeutic.”

He paused as he went to release the second knife and offered it to me instead.

I quirked an eyebrow uncertainly but then shrugged and set my coffee aside, taking the knife from his hand. It felt too light, too small – and, suddenly, very slippery. I adjusted my grip on the hilt, praying that I didn't end up with the knife embedded in my face or any other important body parts. Looking across at the target, I tried to call up my memory of Whitehawk's face – his cold grey eyes, the firm set of his jaw, the unnerving sincerity that was written plainly across his features. But all I could see was his hand on the gun and the bruises on my mothers face and the bullet wound in her leg.

I threw the knife with more violence than skill. Fortunately, I managed not to stab myself but the knife missed the target by several feet, hitting the wall hilt first before clattering to the floor.

I glared down at it. “That's a lot harder than you make it look,” I muttered.

“I've been doing it for more than a decade,” Jace replied with a shrug.

I raised an eyebrow. “Really?” I said. “You did a lot of knife fighting as a nine-year-old?”

He didn't answer but he held out the last knife to me.

I shook my head. “I should probably stick to what I know,” I said. “Maybe I'll try out the shooting range once everyone's awake.

Jace hesitated, his eyebrows knotted in . . . confusion? Irritation? Worry? My ability to differentiate Jace's many scowls wasn't great. Then he just flipped the knife between his fingers and turned back to the target.

I frowned. “Are you okay?”

Jace's shot went wide, slamming into the wall a few inches from the target, and he stared at it for a moment before saying, “Yeah. Why?”

“Because you got kidnapped by a terrorist?” I replied, lifting my mug to my lips. “Some people might find that, I dunno, traumatic.”

Jace turned towards me sharply, abandoning the knives. “Is that coffee?”

“Yeah,” I said, taken off guard. “Do you want some?”

“Sure.” He took the mug from my hands and walked past me to the wall. He slid to the floor, his knees propped up in front of him and started slurping coffee.

I constrained myself to a small roll of the eyes before walking over and sitting down beside him.

There were a few minutes of silence broken only by the sound of Jace downing the rest of my coffee.

“Do you need to talk about it?” I said at last.

“No,” Jace said, not looking at me.

“I'm just saying, you've been awake since three in the morning.” I gave a small shrug. “Maybe it would help to talk to someone.”

He sighed impatiently. “It's not that,” he grumbled, then reluctantly added. “Mostly.”He set down the mug, the ceramic hitting the concrete floor with more force than was probably healthy.

“Lydia took my stele,” he said finally.

I frowned, trying to figure out what he meant before remember that's what they called the special knife they used to carve the glyphs. “Can you get another one?” I asked hesitantly, hoping it wasn't a stupid question. This wasn't a wand-chooses-the-wizard type scenario, was it?

“Sure,” he said, “I can probably replace it once the otherS get back. But that doesn't help me much now.” He started fidgeting, rubbing at his wrist almost unconsciously. The movement drew my eye to the many layers of twisted scars and I grimaced, glancing down at the matching scar on my own wrist, where Jace had knocked me out when we met.

“Is there anything I can do?” I asked quietly.

“The coffee helped.”

I sighed. “Well . . . awesome.”

After that, we lapsed back into silence. We stayed there for a long time, not speaking, until faint sounds of movement began to echo down from the floors above us.

Jace got up and went back to the mat to start warming up. Alec and Isabelle turned up a few minutes later and joined him, falling easily into the familiar routine. It was incredible how the mere presence of the three of them changed the dynamic of the room, filling it out.

It almost made me want to fetch my camera but I decided it wasn't worth the effort. I was still off the opinion that no sane person would voluntarily chooses to be awake this early, let alone active.

But I certainly wasn't going to complain about competent, well-muscled young men being active in front me. Jace had lost his shirt at some point and I found my gaze lingering on the scars that coiled over his wiry frame, fascinated by the musculature of his back and arms as he started sparring with Isabelle. She was every bit as impressive – no doubt it came with the territory.

The sound of footsteps in the doorway caught my attention and I looked up to see Simon standing there with a pair of familiar looking paper cups in his hands.

“Extra foam chai latte with six pumps of syrup,” he said, handing the cup to me. “Your colleagues seemed a little worried about you, by the way.”

I grimaced, wrapping my hands around the hot cup. “I'd almost forgotten about that,” I muttered.

“I told them you were fine but that you probably wouldn't be back any time soon,” he said, sitting down beside me. “Is your drink okay?”

I took a sip and groaned happily. “Marry me,” I murmured.

He shrugged. “I guess we can if you want . . .” he replied. “I don't know though. I think we can both do better to be honest.”

“That was very hurtful,” I told him earnestly.

“Well there you have it,” Simon said, sighing. “It could never work.”

“Friends then?” I said, leaning into his shoulder.

He put his arm around me as we sipped our drinks. “Yeah, I can live with that,” he agreed.

As we turned our attention back to the more energetic members of the group, I noticed Jace eyeing us, fixing Simon with a look of irritation. Isabelle took advantage of the distraction, landing a solid kick to Jace's shoulder, knocking him back a step.

He batted her away, having apparently lost interest in the sparring match. “He shouldn't be here,” Jace said, coming towards us.

Simon sighed, pulling away from me. “I feel like we've had this conversation already,” he muttered.

“He's a mundane,” Jace snapped.

“Sincere question,” Simon put in, “do you actually know my name? Do you usually just talk about people like they're not there?”

Jace's eyes narrowed. “You don't belong here,” he said. “You should have left a long time ago – why are you even here?”

“I'm observing,” Simon replied easily. “Call it anthropological research.”

Isabelle gave a snort of laughter and Jace shot her a look. “Clary, you should take him upstairs,” he said. “I don't need some mundane ogling everything I do.”

As I opened my mouth to give Jace my answer, Simon rolled his eyes dramatically and sighed. “Deep breaths, care-bear,” he said. “And I wasn't ogling you, anyway; I'm not so into blonds.” As he spoke, his gaze shifted past Jace to where Alec was lifting weights at the back of the room.

Jace's face just then was absolutely priceless as he stared, first at Simon, then at me, before shooting a helpless look over his shoulder at Alec. Alec, for his part, only shrugged and went back to work.

“Fine,” Jace said at last, mostly recovered. “Stay. But when the others get here, they won't' be happy about it either. Don't say I didn't warn you.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Simon muttered. “I'll consider myself warned.”

“Wait,” I said, frowning. “Others? Alec, what's he talking about?”

He paused in mid-lift, considering, then came over to Simon and me. “I was speaking with someone from Central Authority back in Idris last night,” Alec said grimly.

“I know,” I muttered. “You were there for a solid six hours.”

“I did my best to explain the situation here, and they've decided that the best course of action is to postpone the Accords until this has been dealt with.”

“Can they do that?” Isabelle asked, sounding alarmed.

“We'll see,” Alec replied. “I believe that;s being negotiated with the downworlders as we speak. In the mean time, they are sending reinforcements. My mother will be coming back with a few of them later today.”

“Maryse is coming?” Jace asked in a odd voice.

I ignored him. “You don't think you maybe could have us that?” I grumbled.

“I was hoping Simon would have left by now,” he admitted unhappily.

“Well, I'm definitely feeling the love right now,” Simon murmured.

Alec gave him an almost apologetic look. “I've told you you're in dangerous company,” Alec said. “It's only going to get worse. And... to be hones, I don't want to explain to my mom why there's a strange civilian in the house.”

“I don't know if 'strange' is the right word,” Simon replied with a shrug.

“'Civilian' is the part that's of more concern,” Alec said thinly.

“I think I was pretty handy last night.”

“Anyway,” I said, cutting their banter off before it could drag on any further. “You're saying there are a bunch of people coming to help get my mom back?” My heart was racing. “When?”

“I'm... not sure,” Alec admitted.

“We should probably move your stuff out of our parents' room, then,” Isabelle put in.

“Sure,” I said.

“You can move in with me if you want,” she added.

Jace walked out past us, scowling, but I hardly noticed. Soon we'd get my mom back.

I was in a daze as we went upstairs, Isabelle leading the way. If people were coming to help, maybe it wouldn't matter that I hadn't gotten my mother out. We'd gotten so close last time and now the thought of getting her back seemed once again within reach.

Caught up in the maelstrom of my own thoughts, it was some time before I took notice of Isabelle's uncharacteristic silence.

I frowned. Finally, as I gathered the last of my clothing from her parents' room, I said, “Are you doing okay?”

She looked up at me with a weak smile. “Yeah,” she said. “I mean... yes, it's been kind of rough, but I'll be okay.”

“You just seemed really quiet,” I said, making my way down the hall to her room.

She shrugged. “I guess I'm still just processing all of it,” she murmured. “When Jace... told us yesterday, I didn't know how to feel – I still don't, really.”

“I'm sorry,” I told her. I didn't know what else to say.

“It's just, I got brought up believing one thing my whole life,” she went on. “Now it's all been turned upside down.” She hesitated, then added, “I guess you can probably relate.”

I pursed my lips. Finding out that my mother was part of secret society of demon hunters and my father was a genocidal maniac had certainly been a tough pill to swallow. Compared to that, the idea that I might have demon blood in my veins hardly seemed noteworthy, but Isabelle seemed to be taking it pretty hard so I tried to be sympathetic.

“It's got to be tough,” I said after a moment. “But you're still the same person you were yesterday.”

“In my head, I know that,” she sighed. “But in my gut... everything just feels wrong. I was sick to my stomach all day yesterday and I know it must be worse for Alec, even if he doesn't show it. And Jace...” She bit her lip. “It can't be easy for him, given his history.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

She looked at me sharply. “It's not important,” she said, then, before I could reply, “I don't know the whole story. Maybe you can ask him some time.”

“Yeah,” I muttered. I didn't want to leave it there but she was right. This wasn't the time.

“Well, here's my room,” Isabelle said. “There should be some space in the dresser for your stuff.”

“Okay,” I murmured, looking around the small room. “Thanks.”

“I've got the top bunk right now, but the bottom one's free, if you're good with that.”

“I'm good,” I said quickly.

“I'll leave you to get set up, then.” And with that, she was gone.

I didn't have much stuff so it didn't take me long to settle in. A few minutes later, I headed back downstairs to find Isabelle sitting on the couch, braiding Simon's hair while he sat on the floor in front of her with a book. I didn't see the other two but I gathered they were less social creatures. Alec was probably working and Jace was probably off brooding somewhere.

Not wanting to interrupt, I went to the kitchen to see if I could hunt down something to eat. Figuring that a steady diet of fruit loops and pizza was not healthy in the long run, I decide to raid the pantry and make up an actual breakfast.

About half an hour later, I had eaten and there was a large plate of pancakes and sausages for anyone who might be hungry. Simon wandered in not long after, attracted by the smell of hot food and I left him to it.

As I started down the hall to the study with the vague intention of finding Alec, the faint sound of piano music caught my attention. It was a pretty melody, but simple, lacking the depth and body of a fuller composition.

Frowning a little, I focused on the melancholy tune, trying to guess where it was coming from. I eventually tracked down to one of the doors along the main floor hallway and I leaned in to hear better.

Curiosity quickly got the better of me and I twisted the handle and poked my head inside.

Jace was sitting at an electric keyboard, playing out the unfamiliar tune with one hand. I watched his long fingers moving over the keys and and found myself smiling a little as the music drifted over me.

“You could knock,” Jace said suddenly, not looking up.

“That's pretty,” I told him.

He stopped playing abruptly and turned to face me. There was a long silence, then at last he said, “Are you coming in or are you going to hover in the doorway all day?”

I paused, considering, then slipped inside.

The room beyond was not large and was made to seem smaller by the random piles of clothes scattered across the floor and the narrow bed. The only thing that seemed to have escaped the chaos was the tall bookshelf in the corner. It was neatly stacked with comic books, carefully organized by date and publisher.

“What do you want?” Jace asked sharply.

I shrugged and gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, facing him. “I didn't know you played piano.”

“I don't,” he replied curtly.

I frowned, trying to decipher what that meant. “Well, it sounded nice,” I said finally.

He looked at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before saying, “My father used to play. Pretty well, too.”

I blinked in surprise. Given how open and friendly Jace had been before now, the last thing I had expected was him voluntarily sharing personal information.

“Really...” I murmured, not wanting to scare him off the topic.

He looked at me a little askance but nodded. “There was a mahogany upright in the living room. He used to play it all the time.”

“Must have been nice, having some music around the house,” I said softly.

He shrugged.

“Did your mother play?” I asked.

“I never knew her. She died not long after I was born; the hospital she worked at got overrun.”

My lips parted and I swallowed uneasily. “I'm sorry,” I muttered.

He watched me evenly, his pale blue eyes impossible to read. “It's not so bad,” he replied. “You can't miss someone you never met.”

“Still,” I said, almost warily. “It can be hard, when it's just the two of you.”

“You survived.”

Before I could think of how to reply, a noise came from the living room, with the sound of the front door slamming closed.

Jace and I looked at each other, then by some unspoken agreement, we both surged to our feet and hurried out of the room.

When we reached the living room, Jace stopped short in the doorway, forcing me to peer around him to see what had happened.

There were three people I'd never met standing in front of the door. They were clearly shadowhunters by the marks on their arms. Each carried a small black duffel bag. The man on the left was older than the others, with flecks of grey in his thick beard, but his well muscled frame showed no sign of withering with age. The woman standing opposite him was younger, perhaps in her early forties, with an eyepatch drawn across her left eye and a scowl on her face.

The woman in the middle was just as much of a stranger to me but her dark hair and striking features were instantly recognizable.

Jace stiffened and seemed to shrink back into the doorway, nearly stepping on me.

“Maryse.”


	3. Chapter 3

Isabelle was the first to respond, leaping up to throw her arms around her mother. “Mom!” she said happily.

“You sound surprised,” Maryse replied. “Didn't your brother tell you I was coming?”

“He did. I'm just happy to see you,” Isabelle told her, before welcoming the others with almost as much enthusiasm.

Simon took in the whole scene without saying anything, only shooting a questioning look over his shoulder at Jace and I.

Alec, pushing past us into the room, opted for a somewhat more formal greeting than his sister's. “Mother,” he said, holding out his hand. “I'm glad you're back.”

She took his hand and pulled him into a gruff hug. “I'm glad to be back.”

As she released him, her eyes fell on Jace. When he made no move to greet her, she simply said, “It's good to see you, Jace.”

“Maryse,” he replied with a stiff nod.

Then Maryse's gaze drifted over his shoulder to me and her eyes narrowed. She glanced at Simon, still seated on the floor by the couch, and then turned to Alec with a familiar, unreadable expression.

“Alec,” she said softly, “would you care to introduce me to your guests?”

I thought I saw Alec wince but he covered it well. “This is Simon,” he said quickly. “Simon, Maryse Lightwood, my mother.”

“Pleasure,” Simon murmured.

Maryse considered him for a moment, then gave her son a sharp look. “He's a mundane,” she said, lowering her voice.

“Yeah, I kind of crashed your exclusive little club,” Simon cut in. “But it's not Alec's fault.”

Maryse raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“He told me to leave loads of times,” Simon explained. “But the thing is, as long as she's here-” he jerked his head at me “- I'm not going anywhere.”

“I see,” Maryse said.

The man beside her chuckled. “You see what happens when you leave the kids to their own devices?”

Maryse snorted and looked at me.

“Clary Fray,” I said, before Alec could introduce me. I'd had enough of these people talking about Simon and I like we were part of the furniture.

Maryse looked at me for a long moment and frowned. “You... remind me of someone,” she said at last.

I considered briefly, then said. “You knew my mom. And my dad, too, I guess,” I added after a moment.

She narrowed her eyes, clearly searching her memory.

I didn't have time for that so I just said, “Rhiannon Silverfox and Josiah Whitehawk. Apparently.”

For a second or two, the silence in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Then Maryse said, “Rhiannon was a good friend, Clary. It's good to meet you at last, although I'm sorry it had to be under these circumstances.”

“Yeah,” I muttered.

She turned to Alec. “It seems you may have left one or two details out of your briefing.”

Alec looked uncomfortable – not an expression I'd seen on him very often. “Things are kind of complicated. I wasn't sure how much was safe to tell, so I thought let you handle it.”

She sighed. “I suppose that makes sense. Where's Luke?”

“He left,” Alec replied, his eyes flickering to the shadowhunters on either side of Maryse. “He figured he probably wouldn't be welcome once it started getting crowded.”

“I wish I could say he was wrong,” she muttered, grimacing, “but it's probably for the best.”

She sighed. “We don't have a lot of time,” she said, as if that wasn't blazingly apparent. “And it looks like there's still a great deal I don't know about the situation. Meet me in the study – all of you,” she added, with a pointed look at Simon. “That way we'll all be on the same page.”

With that, she picked up her bags and made her way upstairs. As her companions made to follow her, the man stopped by Alec.

“We leave you alone or a few days and the whole world goes to hell, huh?” He winked. “Don't mind your mum; she's just tired from the flight. We'll get this all sorted.”

“Hodge, quit chatting and get your ass moving,” the woman growled, stalking past him.

“Well that was fun,” said Simon brightly, once they had vanished up the stairs.

“Come on,” Alec said. “Let's go to the study.”

Before any one could say anything, Jace turned on his heel and walked out of the room, the soles of his combat boots landing heavily on the hardwood floors.

I waited for Alec and Isabelle to go out after him and then caught Simon's arm. “That was awkward, right?” I muttered. “It wasn't just me?”

“Oh, no, that was definitely awkward,” he replied. “But to be fair, I think some awkwardness is to be expected when you're dealing with faked deaths and terrorists and all that jazz.”

“And you were no help,” I grumbled

He shrugged unapologetically. “I'm not here to help,” he told me. “I'm just here to observe.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I said, dragging him towards the study. “Come on.”

The scene that waited for me when I got there was uncomfortably quiet. The three shadowhunters were sitting meekly in chairs around the large table, none of them speaking. I frowned and settled into the seat next to Jace. He didn't look up.

After a long moment, I turned to Alec and said, “Why didn't you tell your mom about me?”

The question seemed to catch him off guard. “I didn't get a chance until now,” he said.

“Then who were you and Luke talking to all day yesterday?”

“Oh,” he said, “That was just Central Authority. My mother was still in the council chambers for the accords.”

“Okay,” I said slowly. I was never going to figure out this ridiculous system of government. “Then let me rephrase the question,” I went on. “Why didn't you tell the central authority people who I was?”

Alec hesitated and Isabelle looked up at him curiously. “I didn't know how they would react,” he said finally. “Given...”

Given my parents. “You don't trust them,” I said, watching him carefully.

He gave me a sharp look, his jaw working. “There's still a great deal of paranoia about the Filii,” Alec said quietly. “I didn't want to spur some reckless action based on incomplete information.”

He'd lied to protect me. He'd decided I was trustworthy – maybe even more trustworthy than his own government – and I was pretty sure that was a big deal from him. My throat felt suddenly tight and I swallowed.

“I thought it was best to wait for someone I knew I could rely on,” he continued. “Especially since it seems Central Authority haven't been entirely honest with us before now.” His eyes flickered towards Jace as he spoke and I remembered Isabelle telling me how hard the revelation of the demon blood would be for him.

Before anyone could say anything else, Maryse came in with the other shadowhunters close behind her. She took a seat on the other side of the table while the other woman hovered by the door. The man – Hodge – found an empty chair and leaned back, kicking his feet onto the table in a strikingly familiar manner.

Maryse shot him a look, but didn't say anything. Then she turned to Alec. “Alright,” she said. “Why don't you start from the beginning?”

I found myself leaning in curiously as he walked her through everything that had happened since she left – the emergency call that had dragged the rest of the shadowhunters to China, the rise in demon activity in New York City, and his attempts to keep it in check with regular patrols. Simon raised an inquiring eyebrow at me when Alec got to the bit about running into me for the first time and I realized I'd never actually gotten around to telling Simon that part. Oops.

Once I was caught up, I mostly stopped following what Alec was saying, impatient for him to finish. As he detailed what had happened – looking for Luke, losing Jace, and then rescuing him – I could see a look of growing concern on Maryse's face but she remained silent until he had finished speaking.

“Well,” she said at last. “You've been busy.”

Simon snorted and Alec shot him a quelling look.

“I'm relieved to find you all alive – and safely home -” she added, glancing at Jace, who didn't meet her eyes. “But I cannot emphasize enough how foolish it was to go after him on your own without waiting for reinforcements. We're lucky any of you made it out of there.”

“I know,” Alec said quietly.

“Good.” Maryse's tone was impossible to read.

“Sure, the kid might be an idiot but you have to admit it's impressive,” Hodge muttered.

“Hodge,” Maryse said sharply, and he subsided. “You're absolutely certain that Whitehawk was behind this?” she went on, turning to Alec.

He hesitated and glanced at me. “I never saw him,” he admitted.

Maryse followed his gaze and raised an eyebrow at me.

“Well, that's hard to say since I never saw the guy till two days ago,” I snapped. “But, yeah, I'm pretty damn sure.”

“And he was after the cup?” she pressed.

“As far as I know,” I muttered. I glanced at Jace for clarification - after all, he spent the most time with the man – but he was busy studying the dark wood grain of the table top.

Hodge sighed heavily. 'I thought we were done worrying about that damn thing,” he muttered.

“It looks like we were wrong about a lot of things,” Maryse replied. “Were there others?” she asked, watching me carefully.

“Sure,” I said. “I think there were about fifteen of them.”

“Would you be able to identify them in a photo?”

I shrugged. “Maybe – but, to be honest, I was trying not to look at their faces. There was just one – Lydia. I think she was his second in command.”

I felt Jace stiffen beside me at the name and Maryse nodded.

“I know who you mean,” she said.

“The girl's hardly a reliable witness,” the other woman – the one who's name I didn't know – said, speaking for the first time. “You're risking a lot even having her here.”

I frowned. I could grant that I was unreliable, but it still seemed a little harsh.

“What are you getting at, Imogen?” Maryse asked.

“We don't know her – where she comes from,” Imogen replied. “Can we really trust anything she tells us?”

“You seriously think I'm a threat?” I burst out, unsure if the accusation was more amusing or insulting.

Maryse held up a hand, cutting me off. “Caution is certainly warranted, under the circumstances,” she said slowly. “But paranoia is less helpful.”

“Paranoia? Both her parents were criminals.”

“Alleged,” I growled, but Maryse cut me off again.

“It's not genetic, Imogen,” she said. “It doesn't mean anything.”

“It's not exactly a count in her favour, either.”

“She's a minor.”

I shook my head, at a loss as to how I'd suddenly ended up on trial.

“Like the Filii have never used children before,” Imogen snapped. “You should know that better than anyone.”

“Leave it,” Jace said suddenly. “Whitehawk had no idea she even existed.”

Imogen didn't say anything but she seemed mollified.

“Look,” I said. “You don't want me here – I get it! I don't want me here either – but my life has pretty much gone to shit lately, so could we get on with this, please?”

“Happily,” Maryse said, sighing. “Unfortunately there's a limit to what we can do with so few hands, but once our back up gets in this evening we'll have to devote our resources to finding the mortal cup.”

I blinked. “Are you kidding?” I demanded. “Who cares about the fucking cup?”

“The cup is a very powerful object, Clary, and not just symbolically,” Maryse explained slowly. “I can't express how dangerous it would be if it fell into Whitehawk's hands.”

“It's not falling into anyone's hands,” I snapped. “No one has the first clue where it is.”

“Not yet,” Maryse allowed. “But we're not the only one looking for it and we can't afford to let the Filii find it first.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Look,” I muttered. “My mom's not an idiot and she didn't trust the lot of you – frankly, I'm beginning to see why. The only way you're finding that cup is if she tells you where it is.”

“Let's hope that's not the case,” Maryse replied.

“So that's it.”

“Yes.”

“What about my mom?”

Maryse's face was expressionless. “Rhiannon is a strong woman,” she said. “She risked a great deal to keep the cup safe.”

My stomach churned and I opened my mouth to offer a less than polite reply.

“You can't just leave her there with him,” Jace burst out suddenly, the ferocity in his tone surprising me.

“'Him'?” Maryse asked.

“Whitehawk,” Jace snarled. “We have to get her out of there.”

“I'm sorry, Jace. That's not possible,” Maryse said firmly. “We have no leads and far too few people to mount an attack on the Filii.”

“Bullshit.”

Maryse barely reacted. “The cup is our priority.”

“I thought she was supposed to be your friend,” Jace sneered.

“Duty comes first,” she told him, unphased. “Rhiannon understood that.”

“Right,” Jace said in a tone of disgust. “Fucking bullshit,” he muttered, and walked out of the room without another word.

We all sat in tense silence for a moment before Hodge said, “I'd actually started to miss his outbursts.”

“He's not wrong,” Simon said quietly. “Never thought I'd say that.”

I was shaking, my heart beating far too fast. They weren't going to help. After all of this, they were just going to leave my mother to rot.

“Clary,” Maryse began.

I stood abruptly and followed Jace out of the room.


	4. Chapter 4

I caught sight of Jace just as he vanished around the corner that led to the garage and, on an impulse, I dashed after him. I caught up with him at the bottom of the stairs and he turned around sharply when he heard me coming.

“You,” he said helpfully.

“Me,” I agreed.

He scowled at me. “What do you want?” he demanded.

“I just had to get out of there,” I said quietly.

“Well, congratulations,” he said. “You're out.”

“Where are you going?” I asked, just as he turned to leave.

“None of your business,” he snapped.

“You're not going back to the Green Man, are you?”

“No,” he told me sourly. “I'm not, but thanks for your concern.”

I narrowed my eyes. “So, where are you going?” I pressed.

“I need a drink,” he snapped.

“Great. That makes two of us,” I said. “You can buy the first round.”

He scowled harder. “I never said you could come.”

I met his eyes evenly. “Then it's a good thing I don't need your permission, isn't it,” I replied.

“Let me put it this way,” he said, taking a step towards me. “You're not coming.”

“Afraid you won't be able to brood properly if I'm there?”

His pale eyes burned into mine and his jaw worked. “Fine,” he said at last. “Do what you want. I'm leaving.”

With that, he turned and walked into the garage, snagging a key off the wall as he passed. I followed after him, only to freeze unhappily as he kicked a leg over one of the black motorcycles.

That was playing dirty.

“You've got to be kidding me,” I muttered, my stomach churning.

“You don't have to come,” he reminded me.

“I hate you,” I growled, but I fetched a helmet and joined him on the bike.

As soon as the thing lurched into motion, my arms tightened frantically around his waist. “You'd better not let me fall off,” I growled.

His answering silence was less than reassuring.

None the less, when we pulled out into traffic, the ride didn't seem as impossibly reckless as my first ride with Isabelle. That wasn't to say that Jace didn't break several traffic laws on the way there, but I wasn't terrified for my life one hundred percent of the time. Maybe I was just getting used to it.

I shuddered. There was a disturbing thought.

I just about launched myself off the damn bike when we finally pulled to a stop in front of the bar. My legs felt shaky and my heart was beating faster than I wanted to admit.

Jace smirked at me as he stepped easily off the bike and headed into the bar. I followed him inside, glaring at his back and muttering a string of uncharitable descriptions under my breath.

He went straight up to the counter and took a stool. After a moment I sat down beside him.

“What do you want?' he asked, turning to me with a heavy sigh.

“Huh?”

“I'm buying the first round. Apparently,” he grumbled. “So, what do you want?”

Right. I was beginning to see a flaw in my plan. Having grown up with my mother's ingrained habit of staying under the radar, I'd been a little excessively paranoid about not doing anything that might get her in trouble with the police. Having only turned twenty one a week ago – had it really only been a week? – my experience with drinks was essentially nil.

“How about a scotch,” I said after a moment. That was what people drank when they were upset, right?

Jace ordered for us and then proceeded to ignore me for the next few minutes, which was fine by me. I wasn't really looking for company. I wasn't even sure why I'd been so intent on coming with him except that I needed to get out of that house and there was a part of me that didn't feel safe being alone.

When the drinks arrived, Jace slid mine towards me without a word and I held it hesitantly to my lips. I took a sip and stiffened, pursing my lips as I resisted the urge to spit the mouthful of scotch back into the glass. I forced myself to swallow and gave a sputtering cough, my throat burning.

Jace gave me a strange look. “What's wrong with you?” he muttered.

“I don't drink a lot,” I replied.

He snorted, shaking his head.

I pushed the glass away from me. “It tastes like licking a tree,” I muttered.

Jace rolled his eyes and finally said, “Do you want to trade?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You actually drink this stuff?”

He shrugged. “It's an acquired taste.”

“Okay,” I agreed.

He shook his head again and took the scotch, sliding his beer towards me.

“Thanks,” I said.

He shrugged but didn't answer.

We sat in silence for a while before I said, “Thanks for backing me up in there.”

“In where?” he replied, not looking at me.

“Back at the house,” I told him. “None of them give a shit about my mom. It's just nice having someone on my side.”

“You don't want me on your side,” he muttered.

I frowned at him, thoughtfully. “I'll take what I can get,” I told him.

After a brief silence I shook my head. “I'm just so tired of hearing about that dumb cup,” I grumbled.

“They're not wrong to be concerned,” Jace said quietly, not looking up from his drink.

I glanced at him sharply. “Hey,” I said. “Remember when you were on my side? Wasn't that nice?”

“If drinking from the cup really did give all those guys superpowers, what do you think they could do with the cup and unlimited access to demon blood?”

I looked away. Sure, it sounded bad when you put it that way, but it was still just a cup.

“If they start using that thing again, we could be looking at a whole army of super soldiers – and that's leaving aside any other nifty tricks the cup might have that we don't know about. Things could go back to how they were.” He took as low sip of scotch. “You can see why they're anxious to find it.”

“I get it,” I snapped. “It's a big deal – but that doesn't mean it's more important than actual people.”

“Maybe.” Jace shrugged. Then an odd look passed over his face and he said, “But your mom though tit was worth the sacrifice.”

I stiffened, trying to ignore the twisting of my stomach at the mention of my mom. “You really think she'd let people die over a scrap of metal?”

Jace met my eyes evenly. “I think she has.”

My jaw clenched. I knew he had a point but I didn't have to like it. “If you're so worried about the cup, why bother arguing with Maryse?” I snapped. “Why worry about my mom while the cup is still out there?”

“Because you were right, too,” he replied.

I frowned, confused.

“Jocelyn's a good person,” he said, “and I owe her. Besides,” he added, “If we want the cup back, getting her out is the fastest way to do it.”

So now Jace was on first name terms with my mom?

Annoyed with the direction of conversation, I only shook my head and turned my attention back to my beer.

We drank in silence for a few minutes. After a while the quiet tension started to nag at me and o turned back to Jace.

“What's the deal with Maryse?” I asked finally.

Jace looked up sharply. “She's in charge of Blackstone,” he said, too quietly. “She's damn good at her job.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Okay,” I said slowly. “Let me rephrase: What's your deal with Maryse?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Jace muttered.

“I'm talking about the way you turn into a reclusive hermit crab whenever you're in the same room as her.”

Jace shot me an icy look out of the corner of his eye but didn't say anything.

I watched him thoughtfully for a moment, then said, “She makes you nervous.”

“She makes everyone nervous,” Jace snapped.

That was fair – she definitely made me nervous, though Simon hadn't seemed bothered. But I'd never seen anyone shut down as fast as Jace had when she walked through the door. “What are you so afraid she'll do?”

Jace was silent for so long that I wasn't sure he was going to answer. Then he said, “It's not what she might do.”

I bit my lip. “You don't want to disappoint her.”

He took another drink of scotch.

“Isn't she basically like your mom?” I asked.

“She's my legal guardian,” he said thinly.

“How'd that happen?” I pressed.

“Not a glamorous job, I know,” Jace muttered, “but someone's got to do it. Only for five more months, though. Then I'm not her problem anymore.”

I was caught by the contrast between that last phrase and the look of love and relief that had passed over Maryse's face when she saw Jace standing in the doorway.

I frowned. “You're not a problem for her,” I said quietly. “She cares about you.”

“She's responsible for me,” Jace snapped. “It's not the same thing.”

“I know,” I muttered, half under my breath. “That's my point.”

If Jace heard me, he didn't reply and we lapsed back into silence.

*

Some time and several rounds of drinks later, my phone buzzed. I glanced down at it and saw a new text from Simon.

> Hey Clary!
> 
> Super appreciate being abandoned in this house full of weirdos...
> 
> Anyway I'm gonna head home. Let me know if anything interesting happens

Oops. Yeah, I probably wasn't winning any friend-of-the-year awards.

I noticed the time at the top of the screen and my eyes widened. We'd been here a lot longer than I thought.

I jabbed Jace in the shoulder and said, “We should get going.”

He offered a grunt of agreement.

When everything had been paid for and our drinks had been finished, I slid off my bar stool and nearly fell over.

Jace caught my arm, steadying me.

“I'm fine,” I grumbled, wrenching my arm out of his grip with a little too much force. My legs felt awkward and wooden underneath me and it was hard to steady myself but I managed it, finally, and started shuffling towards the door. It took a lot more focus than it should have to dodge tables and bar patrons and I manged to bang my shins on multiple pieces of furniture over the few short yards to the door.

It occurred to me, as I drew closer, that I was in no shape to be going anywhere on Jace's damned motorcycle – and I doubted Jace was either. That would make getting back to Blackstone something of an adventure.

As I reached for the door, Jace grabbed my shoulder suddenly, making me jump.

“Hold on, hold on,” he whispered excitedly.

“What?” I muttered, swatting at his hand.

“Look,” he said in a low tone and I followed his gaze.

It was immediately apparent what had caught his attention. She was stunning, with hair like polished mahogany and a rich intensity in her dark brown eyes.

I frowned. There was something familiar about those eyes. I realized, after a moment, that they reminded me of my demon date from earlier that week.

My eyes widened. “She's a -” I caught myself and lowered my voice to a whisper. “Demon.”

Jace nodded. “Want to go hunting?” he murmured, his pale eyes glinting.

I watched him, waiting for the punchline. When it didn't come, I snorted. “I can't!” I told him. “I don't know how.”

He shrugged. “I'll show you.”

I looked from him to the woman and back and felt a stirring of excitement in the pit of my stomach. I bit my lip.

One corner of Jace's lip quirked up and he said, “Come on. It'll be fun.”

My lips drew up in an answering smile and I nodded slowly. “Okay...”

“Did you bring your gun?”

“To go out drinking?” I replied. “No, I didn't bring my gun. I'm not even supposed to carry it sober!”

Jace rolled his eyes. “Here,” he said, holding out a knife hilt-first.

As I took it with nervous fingers, he said, “I always carry two – just in case.”

I glanced down at the knife, trying not to look too suspicious holding it. “Right,” I said. “Now what?”

“You go wait outside in the alley,” he told me. “I'll bring her to you.”

“What are you going to do? Just drag her out of here, kicking and screaming?” I muttered. “I think people might notice that.”

“You don't think I can be charming?” he asked, smirking.

I gave an undignified snort. “I'd like to see you try.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Just go wait outside,” he said and turned to walk away.

As much as I wanted to see him in action, I decided it was probably best to do what he said as long as there were demons involved. I went outside and waited, twisting the knife anxiously between my hands. It was chilly outside and I hadn't though to grab my coat when I left, so before long I was shivering.

The wait seemed to drag on forever but eventually Jace rounded the corner with the demon-woman walking beside him.

She saw me only a moment after I saw her and her eyes widened. She turned to lunge for Jace but he was anticipating it and he twisted away from her, slamming her hard against the alley wall.

“Okay,” I breathed. “That escalated quickly.”

“Clary, the knife,” Jace said, his voice a little strained.

“Oh, right.” I looked down at the knife in my hands and hurried over to Jace. “What now?”

“Stick it up under her chin,” Jace said.

I grimaced and readjusted my grip on the knife. This didn't feel right. Yeah, I knew she was really a terrifying, soul-eating, hell beast, but she still looked like an ordinary person and I had a few qualms about stabbing her.

“That's it?” I asked uncertainly.

“Yup,” he replied, grunting with the effort of holding her still. “Come on; you can do it.”

I swallowed, my stomach churning, and brought the knife up, only to stop short. I shook my head. “No. No, I can't.”

“Oh, for fuck's sake, Clary!” Jace reached to take the knife from me and as he did, the woman lunged at him, snarling.

As the two of them tumbled to the ground, her human shape dissolved away, revealing some kind of unnatural creature covered in matte black fur.

I made a strangled noise and took the knife in both hands, stabbing blindly at the thing. It howled in pain and whirled on me, swiping at me with clawed fingers. I dodged in a panic and Jace leapt onto its back, wrestling it to the ground.

Seeing an opportunity, I rushed in and stabbed it in the neck, just as Jace had said.

Or, rather, I tried to. The demon was still moving after, so, with a panicked squeak, I pulled the knife back and stabbed again, grimacing at the black blood that sprayed across my hands and arms.

At last, the thing twitched and went still, before disappearing.

Jace rolled away and got stiffly to his feet. “Not bad,” he allowed. “You could work on your aim, though.”

I stared at him, breathing heavily, and promptly doubled over and threw up.

Jace hurried over to me, holding my hair away from my face. “How're you doing?” he asked, when I stopped heaving.

I looked at him dully but I didn't answer.

He chuckled. “Come on. Let's go home.”

I straightened slowly, my head throbbing, and took a deep breath to steady myself. “Yeah,” I said. “Let's go.”

As we rounded the corner, a black car screeched to a halt in front of the bar and Isabelle hopped out.

Alec followed a moment later, a phone pressed to his ear. “Found them,” he muttered, and hung up.

“Where have you been?” Isabelle asked. “We were worried.”

I shot a look at Jace who smiled almost slyly and said, “You know. Out.”

Isabelle turned to me and her eyes widened. “You're covered in demon blood!”

I glanced down. Oh, right. That. “We went hunting,” I explained.

Alec's jaw clenched. “You could have been seen,” he hissed.

That hadn't even occurred to me until he said it. That could have been bad. I found myself chuckling helplessly and tried to stifle it with a cough. “Oops,” I managed.

Alec regarded me narrowly for a moment and sighed. “You're drunk,” he muttered.

“I'm not drunk!” I protested. I'd only had... How many drinks had I had? After the third one, I'd sort of lost count. I turned to Jace. “Am I?”

He held up a hand with thumb and forefinger about two inches apart.

“Fine,” I said. “I'm a little drunk.”

Isabelle looked quizzically at me and Jace but didn't say anything.

“Something's happened,” Alec said at last, his tone clipped. “We've got to get back to the house so you'd better do your best to sober up before we get there.”


	5. Chapter 5

My head was pounding violently by the time we got back to Blackstone. Alec got out without a word to Jace and me and led the way up the stairs. He paused outside the door to the study and turned to us with suppressed frustration.

He looked at me, considering for a moment, then shrugged out of his jacket and handed it over. “At least it should hide the bloodstains,” he sighed. “Now unless you can string together a coherent sentence -” He stopped and shook his head. “Actually, you know what, don't say anything.”

I zipped my lips and nodded, then groaned as the movement set off a new round of pounding in my skull.

Jace snorted.

Alec gave a long suffering sigh pushed into the room.

Maryse waited inside, her head bent over a mass of papers and a look of focused concern on her face. She looked up as we came in and let out a breath of relief, her lips pulling up in a small smile.

“You're not hurt,” she said.

I frowned. “What? No.”

Alec shot me a look and I fell silent, pursing my lips.

“It's good you're back,” Maryse went on, as if I hadn't spoken. “I'm afraid I have some bad news.” She paused and added, “Alec, please close the door.”

As the door clicked shut, she said, “We were promised reinforcements from China by tomorrow morning.” She paused, her expression grim. “Unfortunately, it seems we weren't the only ones to get the news. The Filii were waiting for them as soon as the plane touched the ground.”

She let that sink in, her lips pressed into a thin line. “We have a mole.”

Isabelle drew in a sharp breath and I felt Alec tense slightly beside me.

“Jace,” Maryse said, turning to face him, “I need to know everything that happened while you were in Whitehawk's custody.”

Jace's eyes narrowed. “It's not me,” he said defensively. “I didn't even know about the plane.”

“I know,” Maryse replied. “But you spent the most time with him – did he ever say anything to you? Reveal anything we could use?”

“No,” Jace said bluntly. “He never said anything to me.”

“Did you overhear anything?” Maryse pressed.

“If I had, don't you think I would have said something?” Jace snapped. “I didn't know there was a mole.”

She grimaced. “I had to ask,” she said. “I'm sorry. As it is, this leaves us in a rather precarious position. We'll do out best to look into this, but in the meantime, I urge you all to be careful. We've already lost too many lives because of this traitor; I don't want anything to happen to you.”

“We'll be careful,” Alec replied. “All of us,” he added pointedly, shooting a look at Jace and me.

“Good.” Maryse turned unhappily to face me. “Clary, I don't mean to worry you, but given your... situation, there's a good chance you're at higher risk than the others. At least for the near future, I think it would be best for you not to leave Blackstone.”

I wasn't too happy about that but, remembering Alec's ban on talking, I only nodded reluctantly.

“One last thing,” Maryse went on. “Under the circumstances, I'm instituting an additional security measure.” She reached into the large desk and withdrew four small coins. “Each of you will have a token, to show that you have been vetted and that you are who you say you are. Keep it on you at all times, somewhere safe. Alec?”

He stepped forward and offered her his hand. Something flashed as Maryse reached for it and I realized she was holding a small lancet. She pricked his finger sharply, letting the blood drip onto the coin before pressing it into his hand.

Seriously, what was with these people and blood? I was tired of being jabbed with pointy objects but everyone was doing it so I didn't argue.

When all the tokens had been distributed, Maryse announced that Hodge had made dinner – a gentle but clear dismissal – and we all filed out of the room.

“This is insane,” I muttered as we made our way to the kitchen.

“What is?” Alec asked.

“This,” I said, holding up my bloodstained token. “Who's going to think any of us is a spy? Isabelle's seventeen, for christ's sake!”

Alec gave me a look and I lowered my voice. “It just seems a little paranoid,” I whispered.

He was silent for a moment. “It wouldn't be the first time,” he said at last, his voice grim and quiet. “During the war – and after – people were desperate. They wanted every fighting body they could find – regardless of age.”

I stared at him, the gravity of what he'd said breaking through the haze of alcohol.

“The Filii used child soldiers?” I breathed.

He shook his head. “Not just the Filii,” he said. “Everyone. My mom was one of the people in charge of running juvenile trials – some of the more serious cases are still being investigated.”

I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry.

Alec sighed. “Look, Clary, I trust you,” he said. “But with everything these people have seen, I can't blame them for being concerned.”

I shook my head slowly, sill coming to grips with what he'd told me.

“Come on,” he said. “Let's eat.”

I woke up some time in the middle of the night with a throbbing headache and throat that felt drier than the Saharra.

I snuck out of the room as quietly as I could so as not to wake Isabelle and made my way downstairs to get a drink of water and a snack. I hadn't eaten much a dinner, not wanting to throw up again, but now that my stomach had settled I was acutely aware of how little i'd eaten the day before. I dug some leftovers out of the fridge and set them in the microwave to reheat while I went in search of painkillers.

I hesitated outside Jace's room as I passed. I wondered if he felt as awful as I did – probably not, I suspected, though he'd had as much to drink. He was probably sleeping it off just fine.

Or maybe not. I bit my lip, remembering our conversation that morning: 'I don't sleep much...' I thought of the layers upon layers of faded glyphs on his wrist and grimaced.

A sudden sound like a drawer slamming shut caught my attention and I froze. I'd thought I was the only one up but I could hear Jace moving about his room, his urgent footsteps just loud enough to be heard through the door.

Feeling awkward at what suddenly felt like an unwelcome invasion of privacy, I started to back away from the door when the microwave beeped loudly. I cringed, the muscles in my neck tightening with each insistent repetition of the shrill noise.

When it finally stopped, I shot a nervous glance at the door but everything had gone very still and quiet.

As I was about to sneak away down the hall, the door abruptly swung open and Jace scowled out at me. He looked tired and ragged but definitely no where near sleep.

“Clary,” he said, sounding surprised but not altogether disgusted. “What do you want?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “I was just...” Then my eyes slid past him to the dark room beyond and the half filled duffel lying open on his bed.

“What are you doing?” I hissed.

“What's it look like?” he muttered, turning and walking back into the room.

I followed him inside – if he had wanted me gone, he would have slammed the door in my face. I stared at him as he threw another set of clothes into the bag. “You're leaving?”

He said nothing, but tapped a finger along the side of his nose.

“Why?” I demanded.

He shrugged. “Why not?”

I narrowed my eyes. It wasn't a great reason but it wasn't the worst I could think of. “Why?” I said again.

“You heard Maryse,” he snapped. “That means we're no safer here than anywhere else.”

I grabbed his arm as he moved to zip up the bag. “What about the cup?” I asked. “Weren't you just telling me how important it is? Or did that change in the last six hours?”

“No,” he said coldly, yanking his arm free. “But Maryse isn't going to find it.”

“What makes you so sure?” I asked.

“Because they're looking in the wrong place.”

My eyes widened as I digested what he'd said. “You know where it is,” I breathed.

“Not exactly,” he muttered. “But I know where it was two days ago and I know who has it.”

I frowned, thinking. “How?”

His jaw tightened but he didn't answer.

Then it clicked. “My mom,” I said. “That's what she told you back in the warehouse.”

After a moment, he nodded.

“Why would she tell you?” I grumbled.

Jace's lips twitched. “It's a mystery to me.”

“That's not what I meant,” I said quickly. “But why wouldn't she say anything to me?”

“Tell you what,” Jace said, slinging his bag onto his shoulder. “Why don't you ask her when I get her back?”

I stepped in front of him, blocking the door. “You're going after her?”

He hesitated, then said softly, “I owe her.”

“Then I'm coming,” I told him.

I braced myself for an argument but all he said was, “I'm leaving in two minutes. Be there or I'm leaving without you.”

I didn't waste any time. I hurried upstairs to grab my back back. I regretted unpacking it now but I had few enough things that it didn't take long to collect them and stuff them into the large bag. Last to go in was my gun and ammunition before I crept out of the room and back downstairs.

As I stumbled into the living room, Jace was standing by a wooden side table, pulling a comically large wad of bills out of one of the drawers.

“What the hell?” I whispered.

He looked up at me sharply. “It's for emergencies,” he explained. “Are you ready to go?”

I nodded, stepping into my shoes without bothering to lace them up.

Instead of heading back through the house towards the garage and Blackstone's various vehicles, Jace walked straight out the front door and I had to scramble to catch up with him. I shivered uneasily as I stepped outside. It was cold but beyond that, everything that had happened in the past few days had left me anxious and more than a little exposed and vulnerable outside the walls of the house.

I moved closer to Jace and found, to my irritation, that I nearly had to jog just to keep up with him – which would have been enough of a pain if I wasn't weighed down by the large back pack. I wondered if it was some magical speed glyph or if it was just that he had long legs and no patience.

My legs were starting to ache with the effort of keeping up with him and I was out of breath. “Dammit, Jace, slow down,” I snapped finally, grabbing his arm and bringing him up short.

He looked at me in surprise, having apparently not noticed me struggling to match his pace. He narrowed his eyes, no doubt searching for an appropriately rude or sarcastic comment, but all he said was, “Fine.” He started walking again at a – slightly – reduced speed.

I was relieved when we reached a subway station and I finally got a break. I wasn't much for long walks through New York City in the middle of the night under the best of circumstances and my head was still throbbing faintly. Of course, Jace had had as much to drink as I had but it was hard to tell by looking at him.

“Jace,” I said as we waited on the subway platform. “Tell me you have a plan.”

He gave a little snort and I narrowed my eyes.

“I'm serious,” I pressed. “You know where you're going, right? We're not just wandering aimlessly?”

“I know what I'm doing,” he muttered. “I just find it funny you waited till now to ask. What if I said no?”

“Hilarious,” I snapped.

“I didn't ask you to come,” he said.

I glared at him but didn't reply.

Our train arrived shortly after. It was as close to empty as one was likely to find in New York City, and we found seats a good distance away from any of the other passengers. I collapsed down beside Jace with yawn, my eyelids heavy. Normally, I preferred to be asleep at this hour.

Inevitably, as the train pulled away from the platform, my eyes started to drift closed and my chin started to drop towards my chest. I caught myself and shook my head, trying to shake off the fog of sleep but I was fighting a losing battle. All the sleep I'd lost over the past week was catching up to me.

I started awake some time later when Jace nudged my leg sharply with his knee.

“This is our stop,” he said.

I scrambled for my back pack, moving with all the grace of a startled bear, and stumbled after Jace.

It took my sleep-addled brain longer than it should have to get my bearings – though Jace, at least, seemed to know where we were going. I regarded my surroundings with growing anxiety as I realized that not only was the area unfamiliar, but it had all the warning signs of a neighbourhood to avoid.

And yet, here I was, blithely walking through it in the dead of night. Somewhere in the back of my mind, it began to not on me that this might not have been a good idea.

Jace was starting to outpace me again and I hurried to catch up with him. After a few blocks, he turned sharply into the parking lot of a seedy looking motel. More than a few lights had gone out, leaving heavy shadows across the pavement, and the 'M' and 'E' had fallen from the sign so that it read 'OT L'.

“Jace,” I hissed.

“What?”

“We can't stay here,” I said, casting an anxious glance at a group of people lurking in the shadows by the edge of the parking lot. “We will definitely be murdered.”

“You killed a demon like four hours ago,” he told me. “You can't honestly tell me you're worried about mundane criminals.”

“Oh, yes I can,” I replied.

He rolled his eyes, apparently unconcerned.

I was careful to stick close to him as he negotiated a room for us. I felt better once we got inside – where there was a door that locked and bright fluorescent lights. The room was cramped, with no furniture besides a pair of narrow beds and a small table. It smelled faintly of alcohol and cigarette smoke and the walls were yellow and stained, but it was clean and, as tired as I was, the bed looked almost irresistibly comfortable.

Jace pushed past me to the bed farthest from the door and threw his duffel onto it.

I looked up sharply at the noise, then glanced uneasily at Jace. I wasn't entirely sure how to talk to him when we weren't fighting about something. Or drunk.

I slipped out of my back pack and let it fall to the floor, uncomfortably conscious of the silence in the room.

“So,” I said at last, running a hand through my hair. “You got anything to eat?”

He frowned at me. “What?”

“I'm hungry. I was heating up some food back at the house but I left it in the microwave,” I explained.

“Why?” he grumbled.

“Just to screw with you,” I snapped. “We were in a hurry, remember. I brought my gun! Don't I get points for that?”

Jace sighed and tossed me the ridiculous wad of bills. “There's a vending machine a few doors down,” he said.

I looked at the door and bit my lip, trying to decide if I was really hungry enough to go back outside by myself. Eventually my hunger won out and I scurried over to the vending machine to load up on chips and candy bars. By the time I got back, Jace was in bed with his back to me. His clothes were scattered across the floor and there were an improbable number of knives on the little table beside the bed.

I dropped my handful of junk food onto the bed, wincing a little at the noise it made. Then, plucking Jace's shirt from where it lay haphazardly across my pillow, I collapsed down on the covers. It was shaping up to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, folks! I've been a bit swamped with assignments.  
> Also, meant to do this a while ago, but anyway, come visit me on [tumblr](ariannon.tumblr.com) =)


	6. Chapter 6

I woke reluctantly the next morning when the sunlight started to creep in past the heavy curtains on the window. I had a brief moment of of panic when I opened my eyes before remembering where I was an how I got there. Then I had a longer moment of cursing drunk-me's poor decision making.

There was an assortment of candy wrappers and half empty bags of ships scattered across the bed and the floor, remnants of last night's impromptu feast.

I glanced towards Jace's bed but it was empty. Belatedly, I clued in to the sound of the shower running.

Now there was an idea. I had slept restlessly that night and the sheets were damp with sweat. Glancing down at myself, I could see large splotches of black demon blood caked onto my arms and hair from last night's outing. Between that and the dull ache through my head and joints, every part of me felt disgusting. But a shower would have to wait.

A glance at the little alarm clock beside the bed told me that it was nearly one. I rarely slept that late and though god knows I need the rest, I couldn't help but feel a little guilty for letting so much time get away from me when we were supposed to be looking for my mom.

A faint buzz came from my back pack and I scrounged inside to find my phone. I pulled it out to see a series of messages from Simon.

> Morning Fray. Alec just called. You and the Asshole are missing? Should I be worried?'

Then, about an hour after that,

> Alec just turned up at my house. Apparently he didn't believe me when I said I didn't know anything

There were a few more, detailing Alec's visit, then finally,

> Anyway... if you get a chance maybe shoot me a heads up so I know you're not dead. :)

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. I felt bad about leaving him in the dark but I had no right to drag him any deeper into this mess than I already had. Beside, I didn't want him to have to lie for me – especially not to Alec.

“You're still here.”

I started and spun to see Jace on the other side of the room, drying his hair with a towel. He hadn't put a shirt on yet and frowned as I looked at him. Something looked different about him but I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was.

“Of course I'm still here,” I snapped. “Where else would I be/”

“I figured you'd chicken out and run home,” he replied.

I narrowed my eyes. “I'm not going anywhere,” I said. “So, what now?”

He was silent a moment, then shrugged.

“That's it?”

He glared at me.

I glared back. “You're telling me you dragged me all the way out here and you don't even have a plan?”

“Let's get one thing straight,” he snapped. “I didn't drag you anywhere – I didn't even want you to come.”

“And what exactly were you going to do if I wasn't here?” I retorted.

“I was going to get your mom back.” he said shortly. “But now I'm stuck babysitting you instead.”

“Are you serious?” I burst out, at a loss. “I'm the one that needs a babysitter? Did I or did I not rescue your ass just two days ago?”

“You might not want to use that as a shining example of your competence,” he sneered.

My jaw clenched. “Don't you put that on me,” I said. “That plan would have worked just fine if she hadn't been injured.”

Jace fell abruptly silent, a sullen expression on his face. With out a word, he grabbed one of his shirts from off the floor and pulled it on with so much force I was surprised the fabric didn't tear.

As he moved, my eyes caught again on the layered scars over his wrist. Then it finally clicked. His glyphs were fading. No wonder he was so cranky; I wondered how much sleep he'd gotten that night.

"So where's the cup?" I asked finally. 

"With Whitehawk," he answered quietly. "At least it was when we saw him last."

I narrowed my eyes. "In the warehouse?" I said, not following. "I didn't notice a cup anywhere..." I trailed off as I realized that wasn't entirely true. "You don't mean the painting?"

He nodded once. 

"How?"

He shrugged. "She didn't say."

I considered for a moment. "So if we find Whitehawk, we find the cup - hopefully." I looked away and pursed my lips, thinking quickly. At last I said, “We'll go to the warehouse.”

Jace looked unimpressed. “That's your suggestion? Go to the one place we know they're not?”

“It's a start,” I snapped. “Besides, I don't see you offering any better ideas.”

He still didn't seem happy about it but he didn't argue.

“Then let's go,” I said, before he could change his mind. “Who knows,” I added, “we might get lucky. They must have left in a hurry; maybe they left something useful behind.”

Jace looked at me for a long moment, his jaw clenched, before turning abruptly to gather his things.

Content that the argument was finished, I fetched my gun from my backpack and strapped it to my hip. Then I walked out the door, leaving Jace to catch up. Of course, by the time we reached the subway station he'd taken the lead and I was the one scrambling to keep up, but I wasn't about to complain. We had a plan – weak though it might have been – and, with any luck, my mother would be safe soon.

Not that luck had really been on our side so far.

Jace, rather predictably, wasn't in a mood to talk and I certainly wasn't in the mood to talk to him so we spent most of the subway ride in silence. Which left me with little to distract me from the feeling of nervous anticipation in the pit of my stomach.

I wasn't sure what I expected to find at the warehouse. Probably the best case was that they'd left the painting behind in their rush to leave, but that seemed too much to hope for. As for the worst case... that didn't bear thinking about.

I was sure Whitehawk wouldn't kill my mom as long as he didn't know where the cup was, but the last time I'd seen her she'd been in pretty rough shape and Whitehawk himself hadn't been doing too well either.

What if no one got to her in time? Worse still, what if they'd figured out her secret and decided they didn't need her any more? I wondered briefly if Whitehawk might keep her alive out of some familial sentimentality but that thought seemed almost more disturbing than the last.

The memory of the look in his eyes when he'd found out who I was – and who I was to him – was enough to make me shudder.

The train jolted a little and I looked up sharply, shaken out of my thoughts.

“This is us,” I said to Jace, making my way to the nearest exit.

It was a bit of a walk from the station to the warehouse and I found myself wishing for one of Blackstone's discrete black vehicles. I didn't really mind the walk so much but I was uncomfortably conscious of how long this was taking and time was not something we had to spare – certainly not something my mom had.

At last, we reached the building - a far less ominous thing now, in broad daylight – than it had seemed the last time I was here. I led Jace around to the back entrance where the door still hung slightly ajar.

I took a deep breath. “Come on,” I said, and pushed inside.

The narrow hallway beyond was dark and empty and the sound of the door swinging open echoed hollowly off the walls. I looked around anxiously, my eye catching on the bullet holes that riddled the grey concrete. I hovered there in the doorway for a long moment, peering into the darkness and listening for any sound of movement.

Jace, cautious as always, elbowed past me and went brazenly stalking down the hallway.

I glared at his back and followed after him. Here and there, the floor was stained black with blood but there were no bodies.

When we came to the little side room where we'd run into Whitehawk my stomach clenched and I hesitated outside the door. But if the painting had been left behind, this was the place to look for it. I pushed inside, trying to ignore the flood of unpleasant memories. The room was a disaster. Shards of glass from the broken window scattered the floor and the little desk was pockmarked with bullet holes.

There was no painting.

I shouldn't have been surprised – it was a long shot that we'd find anything at all – but I couldn't help the sinking feeling in my stomach.

I swallowed and looked up to see Jace watching me with a hard expression.

“What?” I demanded.

He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. He'd made no secret of the fact that he blamed me for what had happened. And it wasn't like he didn't have a point.

My jaw clenched. “There's nothing here,” I snapped. “Keep looking.”

We made our way deeper into the building, searching rooms and side passages as we went. Unfortunately, the Filii had been fairly thorough in cleaning up after themselves. They'd left nothing but bullet holes and blood stains as eerie reminders of their presence.

A few times, I thought I heard faint sounds of movement in the distance but I told myself that they were only echoes and my nerves making me jump at shadows.

Jace came to a halt at last in front of an open doorway, his shoulders tense. He stared blankly into the dark room for a long time and I realised, belatedly, that it was the makeshift cell where I'd found him and my mother. How long had he spent locked inside? What memories had come surging back now that he'd returned?

I waited but he made no move to go inside. “Jace?” I said after a long moment.

He stiffened, his fingers curling into fists at his sides.

Hesitantly, I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder. I felt him flinch slightly under my fingers but he didn't push me away. I peered past him into the room beyond. It was dim and shadowy but the light from the corridor was enough to show it was empty.

“There's nothing there,” I said gently, giving his shoulder a soft squeeze.

“I know,” Jace snapped, turning away sharply.

He was silent another moment before he said. “You should have let me go back for her.”

My lips tightened. “If I had, the only thing that would be different is that you would be dead right now.”

“You don't know that.”

“Yeah, I do,” I replied tiredly. I didn't want to have this argument again.

“It would have been worth the risk,” he muttered.

I watch him for a moment and frowned. “No it wouldn't,” I told him gently.

He only walked away without reply.

I sighed, rolling my eyes, but before I could say anything, a faint scratching sound caught my attention – too distinct to be my imagination. “Jace, wait,” I hissed.

He was already half way down the hallway. “Keep up,” he back over his shoulder.

“I'm serious,” I snapped and he stopped short. “Did you hear that?”

We both fell silent, listening, and after a long moment it came again: the sound of something scratching against concrete.

Jace pursed his lips. “Rats?” he suggested.

I shook my head. Outside of The Princess Bride, rats didn't come that big.

“This way,” I said quietly, my hand resting on my gun.

I tiptoed down the hallway towards the sound, my heart pounding heavily in my chest. Jace followed close behind me. Aggravating though he was, I felt better knowing he was watching my back.

After a few yards, we came to a large smear of blood across the floor – not out of place here except that this blood was fresh. Jace and I exchanged wary looks and he reached for his knife.

The trail of blood seemed to start in an empty supply closet to stretch down the hall and around the corner, almost like something had been dragged. I grimaced. I was hardly an expert, but it seemed like a lot of blood for someone to lose...

Not sure what I'd find around the corner, I drew my gun and slid the safety back. As I crept closer, the heavy scraping sound became more distinct and I though I could make out the a quiet rasping of breath.

I shot a look at Jace and nodded once before stepping around the corner.

There, in the centre of the corridor, at the end of the very long trail of blood, was a woman. More specifically, a woman's torso. I thought I could see a flash of white vertebrae poking out from under the bloodied edge of her shirt. My stomach twisted at the gruesome sight.

Then she turned sharply, propped up on one arm, and fixed her fierce, yellow eyes on mine.

I swore and stumbled back a step, nearly running into Jace.

He stepped around me to see what I'd found and stiffened in surprise. “What the hell?”

I stared down at the woman in shock and horror, then my eyes widened as I recognized her as Raphael's friend who had helped me break in here during our rescue attempt.

“Sharon?” I asked hesitantly.

A slow smile spread across her lips. “I heard footsteps,” she managed, still looking at me. “Was afraid the bastards had come to finish me off...”

“You two know each other?” Jace asked.

“Sort of,” I replied, sliding my gun back into its holster. “Jace, put the knife away.”

Jace tightened his grip on the knife. “It's dangerous,” he said.

“So are you,” I snapped. “She needs help.”

“It's a downworlder,” Jace objected. “I'm not going anywhere near that thing.”

I glared at him. “She helped us break you out,” I told him. “That's why she's here now. So, get your ass over here and make yourself useful.”

I didn't look to see if he listened. I turned back to Sharon and crouched beside her, trying to ignore the missing lower half. “What did this to you?” I asked.

She snorted, then winced. “Who do you think?” Her voice was rough and strained. “Filii. Bastard thought he killed me.” She glanced down at herself and grimaced. “Still might.”

I didn't want to think about what kind of person could have ripped Sharon in half. “You're going to be okay,” I told her, then hesitated. None of the First Aid courses I'd taken had covered this.

“I don't think you're up to the task,” Sharon rasped.

“Then we'll take you to someone who is,” I said firmly.

“Why?”

I frowned at her in confusion.

“That one there looks like he'd rather just kill me now,” she said, with awry and very unnerving smile.

I scowled. “That's why he doesn't get to make the decisions,” I grumbled.

“She's practically dead already,” Jace said, not at all under his breath.

“Come closer and say that again,” she hissed, baring rows of sharp teeth.

“Stop it!” I said sharply, shooting a look over my shoulder at Jace. I turned back to Sharon. “If we go to the Green Man, can someone there help you?”

She frowned. “Could be,” she said. “Raph might be there.”

I nodded decisively. “Alright,” I said. “We'll take you there.”

“On the train?” Jace cut in coldly. “I doubt that'll go over well.”

I grimaced. “Fine. You stay here and watch her. I'll get us a car.”

Jace looked at me incredulously. “From where?” he muttered.

“The street,” I snapped. “I'll be back soon. Try not to kill each other.”

As I turned to go, Jace caught my arm. “This is a bad idea, he said in a low voice. “Downworlders are dangerous.”

“She's missing sixty percent of her body,” I muttered, yanking my arm free. “I think we can handle her.”

“It's not our responsibility,” he hissed. “We have more important things.”

“She's been here since before the Filii left,” I said, lowering my voice. “She might be able to tell us where they went. But only if she's not dead.”

Jace hesitated a moment, then said, “I don't trust her.”

I met his eyes evenly. “Then trust me.”

At last he nodded and stepped back, letting me go.

Stealing cars wasn't exactly an easy task at the best of times and it had been years since my mother taught me. Frankly, it wasn't a skill I thought I'd ever have to actually use. It took me longer than I would have liked to even find a suitable car and I was uncomfortably conscious of how much time had passed. I couldn't shake the thought that Sharon might be dead by the time I got back. It was a miracle she'd survived this long and I didn't want to press our luck.

Anxious though I was to get back, I forced myself to move slowly and carefully, remembering how often my mother had scolded me for trying to rush. After what seemed like hours, the car roared to life and I started back to the warehouse.

I left the car hastily parked in front of the entrance and hurried inside. When I got back to Jace and Sharon, they were both still alive but were nearly as far away from each other as the walls would allow. Jace was still holding his knife but, thankfully, didn't look like he was going to use it any time soon. Sharon, for her part, was glaring daggers at him, looking impressively fierce for someone with no stomach.

“I'm back,” I said, eyeing them both uneasily. “The car's outside.”

Jace glanced at me. “You actually stole a car?” he asked, sounding almost surprised.

“I said I would, didn't I?” I replied awkwardly. “Help me with Sharon.”

He eyed me narrowly. “I'm not touching that thing,” he said firmly.

“She's not a thing,” I snapped. “She's a person.”

“People don't survive getting ripped in half like that,” he shot back.

“She's on our side!” I said, but Jace only glared back at me stubbornly. I rolled my eyes. “You're all fucking children,” I muttered. “Give me your jacket.”

I went to Sharon and knelt beside her, wrapping Jace's reluctantly offered jacket around her shoulders. She wrinkled her nose but didn't complain. My stomach was churning and all my instincts were screaming to keep me distance from her – especially when she'd as much as told me, when we first met, that she at people. The thought of touching her at all was less than appealing.

I gave her a weak smile. “Allies, right?” I said, and she grinned.

I reached under her arms and lifted her towards me, doing my best to ignore the trailing bits of skin and spine and organs. She was surprisingly heavy for someone who was missing half her body. I had to keep her nestled against by body to avoid dropping her, even after she wrapped her arms around my neck to stabilize herself.

I stood carefully to find Jace watching us with a look of disgust – not that I could really blame him. It must have made a strange sight, me standing there with a legless downworlder on my hip like an infant.

Not for the first time, I found myself wondering how the hell I'd gotten into this mess. But, unpleasant though the situation was, Sharon needed help, so I strode stubbornly past Jace, leaving him to follow after me.

After a few steps, I felt Sharon squirm in my arms, pulling her face closer to mine. “Thanks for the help,” she said, in a voice so weak I doubt Jace could overhear. “I can see why Raph likes you.”

I swallowed uncomfortably. “I didn't do anything,” I muttered.

“You could have done a lot worse,” she rasped, taking one hand from around my neck to mime a gun to the head.

I looked down at her incredulously. “So you like me because my first instinct when I saw you wasn't to kill you?” I asked.

She smirked. “Why not?”

I shook my head. “No offence,” I said, “but that's a pretty low bar.”

“Not for a shadowhunter,” she told me, her tone sobering somewhat.

Almost involuntarily, I glance over my shoulder at Jace, following a few paces behind, and grimaced. I wondered for a moment if he really would have just killed Sharon, then pushed the thought away. Jace was a lot of things, but he wasn't a murderer.

“Well, I'm only sort of a shadowhunter,” I grumbled.

Sharon grinned. “That's why Raph likes you.”


	7. Chapter 7

Navigating the streets of New York City with half a downworlder in the back seat was a surreal experience.

Every time we stopped moving, I felt a creeping fear that someone was going to look in the window and call the police about the gory figure in the back seat. Fortunately, we reached the Green Man without incident and without getting too hopelessly lost – though we did end up taking a few brief, unintended detours. Jace, thankfully, didn't comment, either because he was busy brooding or because he'd prudently realized I was entirely done with his shit. The same could not be said of Sharon, who was understandably impatient to reach our destination and had made a point of critiquing each of my navigational decisions.

None the less, we did eventually make it to the Green Man.

I parked the car in front of the Blockbuster doors with more haste than precision and hurried around to the rear door to get Sharon. I told myself that it was only my imagination that she looked paler than before, but it was hard to argue with the bloodstain spreading across the worn upholstery of the back seat. I pulled her into my arms with some difficulty and made my way to the entrance.

Since my arms were full of exsanguinating downworlder, Jace got there first, which meant he was the first person through the door.

Which, all things considered, may have been a mistake.

The tension on the other side of the door was nearly tangible; Jace hadn't left a very good impression the last time he'd been here – or the time before that, come to think of it.

Then a dangerous hush spread through the room as countless eyes slid past Jace to me and the creature in my arms.

“She needs help,” I said quickly, before things could escalate any further. “Where's Raphael?”

Just like that, the tension broke and everyone flooded into motion.

“He's not here,” someone said. “I'll find him.”

A moment later, a table had been cleared off and I laid Sharon down on it as gently as I could manage. Ben, the bartender, appeared beside me an instant later with an improbably large first aid kit in hand.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Filii,” I said. “Must have been two days ago.”

He nodded abruptly and fished out an IV hookup and something that looked almost – but not quite – like a blood bag.

“What do you need?” I asked. ”Is there anything I can do?”

He tossed the small bag to be with a grunt and said, “Hold this up.”

The thing felt strange and heavy in my hands – not blood, I decided, or, at least, not human blood – but I did has he said.

I looked down worriedly at Sharon as Ben went to work on her. She looked weak and ashen, and I felt a renewed surge of fear that I had been too late.

I was anxious to hear Ben's prognosis but I was unwilling to interrupt his work. Instead, I only sat there in silence and waited.

The change was subtle, but the IV – whatever it was – did seem to be helping. She was still pale, but less so than she had been. Someone had packed a towel around Sharon's waist, so at least she wasn't losing blood as quickly as before.

The muscles in my arm were starting to seize when a sudden bustle of movement by the door made me look up. Raphael had arrived.

“Sharon!” he called out, his voice booming. “You still alive?”

She tried to laugh but the result was only an unnerving wheeze.

“She's over here,” I said.

Raphael hurried over and squeezed in beside me. “We looked for you,” he said, more softly. “We were sure you were dead.”

“Takes more than a few shadowhunters to finish me off,” she rasped.

“I can see that,” he rumbled, offer her a wry smile. “You're a little shorter is all.”

She snorted bitterly and for the first time, I saw something that looked like vulnerability flash across her features. “They took my legs, Raph,” she breathed.

He squeezed her hand. “Then we'll get you new ones.”

I bit my lip. Despite their light hearted banter, I knew we weren't out of the woods – not by a long shot. But she was getting the best care we could offer and she wasn't breathing her last just yet...

“I'm so sorry,” I cut in, unable to contain myself any longer. “I know this is the last thing you want to think about right now, but I have to ask...”

Her eyes fixed on mine. “Ask,” she said.

The words came out in a nervous rush. “You were there when the Filii cleared out,” I said. “Do you know where they went?”

“No,” she replied. “I was a little busy trying not to die.” Her last words were lost in a fit of coughing.

“Of course,” I said quickly, trying not to wince at how insensitive I sounded. “Is there anything you can tell me? Anything at all?”

She closed her eyes, thinking – or possibly she was just tired. After a moment she said, “I might have heard a name.”

I had to suppress a sudden surge of excitement. “You did?”

“Maybe,” she said. “Or it might be nothing.”

“What was the name?” I pressed.

“Helena.”

I frowned. Nothing. The name meant absolutely nothing to me. So much for that.

Biting my lip, I said, “One more question?”

“What now?” she was clearly running out of patience. Not that I could blame her.

I swallowed. “Was my mom with them? Was she okay?”

Sharon opened her eyes and regarded me coolly. “The only shadowhunters I saw were trying to rip me in half,” she told me finally.

I blinked. “Right. Sorry.” I awkwardly passed the not-blood bag off to Raphael and stepped back. “I'll get out of your way,” I muttered.

There went my hope that Sharon could lead us to my mom. Of course, it wasn't a total loss – we'd saved a woman's life and that was never a waste – but I couldn't help feeling a little disappointed.

I left Raphael and Ben to take care of Sharon and turned back to the room, only to realize that, in all the commotion, I'd completely lost track of Jace. It was probably nothing to worry about but I couldn't help remembering that his last few visits here had ended in violence.

“Jace?” I called out uncertainly. I spotted him a moment later, standing near the door with his back against the wall, as though he could disappear into it if he only stood close enough.

“Jace,” I said again and made my way over to him.

He saw me approaching and scowled. “We shouldn't be here,” he told me in a low tone.

I narrowed my eyes. “Because...”

“They're downworlders,” he muttered. “We don't belong here.”

I rolled my eyes. “They can help us, Jace,” I said, exasperated. “And if you could get your head out of your ass for a second you'd see that.”

“Fine,” he snapped. “If they're so helpful, what'd she have to say about Whitehawk? Does she know where he is? Did she tell you where Jocelyn is?”

“No,” I admitted. “But she gave me a name: Helena.”

He looked at me blankly. “Who's that?”

“I don't know,” I said, a little reluctantly. “But someone might. It's a lead.”

“Not a good one,” Jace muttered.

Before I could reply, his gaze slid past me to focus on something over my shoulder. I frowned and turned to see Raphael coming towards us.

“How is she?” I asked.

He sighed. “There aren't a lot of advantages to being what she is,” he said. “But fortunately, one of them is being damn near invulnerable. Ben thinks she'll pull through.”

I let out a slow breath. “Good.”

“I suppose I ought to thank you,” he rumbled.

I shook me head. “There's no need,” I said. “Really it was the least we could do.”

Jace snorted and I shot him a glare.

“None the less,” Raphael said. “If there's anything I can do...”

“Thanks,” I replied. “But for now...” I shrugged. “Unless the name 'Helena' means anything to you?”

“Helena?” He shook his head. “Nothing comes to mind. But if its Filii business, you'd best ask your friend, Luke.”

I grimaced. Raphael had a point but I had a feeling Luke wasn't going to approve of this scheme – especially considering he'd been trying to keep me out of this since the beginning.

“Right,” I said. “Thanks. Hey, do you know what time it is?”

He shook his head. “But it was getting dark when I arrived.”

“We should go.”

“What's the hurry?” Jace sneered. “You don't want to stay for a drink with your new friends?”

“I'd like to get to Luke's before midnight,” I snapped. “And we still have to take the car back.”

“Back where?”

“Back to where we got it from.”

He arched an eyebrow. “It's a piece of junk,” he said. “the thing barely runs.”

“Maybe so,” I said. “But it's someone else's junk and I don't steal cars.”

“Where does it belong?” Raphael cut in.

I told him and he nodded. “I'll see it makes it home,” he told me. “I can do that much at least.”

I gave him a weak smile. “Thanks,” I said. “I appreciate it.”

Jace eyed me irritably. “It'll take an hour to get to Luke's by train,” he muttered.

“Then we'd better get going,” I shot back. “You coming?”

I didn't wait for him to reply before stepping past him and out the door.

Jace followed after me a moment later. “You're a pain in the ass, you know that?” he said sourly.

“Well that makes two of us,” I replied. “Hurry up.”

Jace's estimate had been somewhat optimistic and it ended up taking closer to an hour and a half, though at least we didn't get lost as many times as we had on our way to the Green Man.

As anxious as I was to find out what Luke knew – to get one step closer to finding my mom – I was glad to have some time to think. I felt like I'd been scrambling to keep up since I woke up that morning – or maybe since I left with Jace the night before. I still wasn't entirely sure how that had happened... Jace was the last person I'd expected to have on my side in all of this.

Not that vaguely tolerating my presence necessarily counted as 'being on my side'. I glanced over at him and pursed my lips. He was sitting in sullen silence, not looking at me.

Not for the first time, I wondered what had happened in that cell that had convinced my mom to trust him. And, not for the first time, I felt a flash of anger – however unjustified – that she hadn't trusted me. And worse, that, in the midst of all these lies and earth-shattering revelations, she wasn't here.

I bit my lip and pushed the thought away. That was the hardest part - that I couldn't just be angry with her for lying to me because I refused to let that be my last memory of her.

And it wouldn't be; I was going to find her. I just had to figure out who Helena was and then break my mom out from a group of magical terrorists. Right.

The sky was dark by the time we stepped off the train. Normally, that wouldn't have bothered me but lately I'd been more paranoid than usual. Part of me even wished for the shadowhunter invisibility glyphs and the faint sense of safety they brought with them. Not that that was an option, since Jace didn't have his stele – and they wouldn't do much to protect against the real threat anyway.

“Do you trust him?”

The question brought me up short and I looked sharply at Jace. “Of course,” I said, then narrowed my eyes. “Why, 'cause he's a downworlder?”

“'Cause he was with the Filii,” Jace replied.

I frowned. “So was my mom, apparently,” I replied. “Why the paranoia all of a sudden?”

His pale eyes bored into mine. “Maryse said there was a leak,” he said at last.

I stared at him. “And you think it's Luke?” I asked, at a loss.

“I don't know who it is, Clary,” he said. “My point is, neither do you.”

“I know it's not Luke,” I said firmly. The very idea seemed ridiculous.

“Fine,” Jace snapped. “Just be careful, that's all I'm saying.”

I snorted. “That's rich, coming from you.”

He glared at me but didn't answer.

His words nagged at me as we walked. I didn't believe for a second that Luke was the mole. But if we sked for his help and he turned us over to Maryse, there would be no way to guarantee that our information about the cup would stay out of Whitehawk's hands.

Not that we had any choice. We needed Luke's help; I'd just have to trust him.

When we reached Luke's little bookstore apartment, I knocked timidly on the door and held my breath, waiting.

At last, the door swung open and Luke peered out at us tiredly. “I was wondering when you two would show up here,” he said, sighing. “I suppose you'd better come inside.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Maryse called,” Luke said as he led us inside. “Said you'd gone missing. To be honest, I'd hoped that meant you had come to your senses and left town.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” I told him, only to fall silent as I took in the lingering carnage of his living room. He'd cleaned up the worst of the broken glass and splinters, but there was hardly a piece of furniture that wasn't smashed. It was hard to see it like this. Luke's place had been like a second home to me – one of the only places I felt truly safe. Now...

“Luke, I'm sorry,” I breathed.

“It's alright,” he said, giving my arm a reassuring squeeze. “No real harm done.”

He turned to Jace and frowned. “Speaking of, what the hell happened to you?”

It had to be said, Jace had definitely looked better. His lip was swollen from the beating he'd taken at the Green man and the bruise under his eye was dark and yellowing.

Jace's jaw worked. “Nothing,” he snapped.

Luke looked non-plussed. “Come on,” he said. “There's some chairs in the kitchen. Can I get you guys anything to drink?”

“Actually...” I hesitated, unsure of how to broach the subject. “This isn't a social visit,” I said at last.

“No kidding,” he replied. “So have a seat and lets talk.”

I shot a sidelong glance at Jace and slid into a chair. Jace crossed his arm over his chest and stayed where he was, watching Luke coldly.

I ran a hand through my hair. “We're looking for my mom,” I admitted.

“Of course you are,” Luke muttered.

“I'm going to get her back,” I told him, “and I'm not going anywhere until I do.”

“So why run of on your own?” he asked. Then, with a brief glance at Jace, he added, “more or less. You'd have better luck with Maryse's help.”

“Yeah, well, Maryse didn't seem all that interest in getting my mom back, I grumbled. “All she wants is the damn cup.”

“I suppose I shouldn't be surprised,” Luke allowed. “She always did put duty first.”

“Actually, it's not quite that simple,” I admitted. I bit my lip, my eyes searching Luke's face. I glanced at Jace, who was looking about as uncomfortable as it was possible for a person to look, his arms crossed defensively in front of him. He looked back at me for a long moment before sighing and turning to Luke.

“We know where the cup is,” he explained. “At least, we know who has it.”

“Who?” Luke asked, his eyes widening.

“Whitehawk,” I said, unhappily.

Luke paled. “Shit,” he breathed.

“Sort of,” Jace cut in quickly. “It's more complicated than that.”

“Meaning what?” Luke demanded, an urgent tension colouring his voice.

“He doesn't know he has it.”

Luke's eyes narrowed. “And how do you know?” he asked.

“My mom told him,” I explained. “You know, before...” I didn't finish.

Luke rubbed his face, trying to wipe away the fear that had been written across his features. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked at last. “Why not tell Maryse?”

I hesitated. “She thinks there's an information leak,” I told him. “A mole.”

Luke looked at me blankly for a few heartbeats, then snorted and shook his head. “Then what do you want me to do?” he said, his tone sardonic. “I'm still recovering from your last brilliant plan and from the looks of things the two of you are in even worse shape than me.”

“No brilliant plans,” I assured him, and it was only half a lie. Jace and I didn't have a plan yet and whatever Jace and I came up with was certain to be anything but brilliant. “We just need information.”

Luke glanced from me to Jace and shook his head. “Fine,” he said. “What do you want to know?”

“Can you tell us who Helena is?” Jace asked brusquely.

“Helena?” Luke asked, frowning. “If she's Filii, I've never met her.”

“Perfect,” Jace muttered with a sour smile.

Luke ignored him and I could almost see his mind working behind his impassive expression. “Helena...” he said again. “No last name?”

I hesitated. “Not that we know of,” I replied uncertainly.

“Do you know her or don't you?” Jace asked, impatient.

The corners of Luke's lips twitched up. “I'm not sure it's a 'her',” he said slowly. “That's how Jo used to name his safehouses – Annemarie, Beatrice, Claudia... I can't remember if there was a Helena, but then, it's been a while since we were on speaking terms.”

“Helena is just some safehouse?” Jace said. “Great. So, we're right back where we started.”

“Keep your pants on, Jace,” Luke said with a tired sigh. “It was an underground organization; we had ways of figuring these things out. Just give me a sec.”

We waited. Luke rubbed his forehead, thinking. Jace glared at Luke. I held my breath.

At last, Luke looked up. “If he's using the same system as he used back in Idris, your best bet is to look around the harbour – starting with the boats.”

“How do you know?” I blurted, then shook my head. “Never mind; it doesn't matter.”

“What if the system's changed?” Jace asked, frowning.

Luke shrugged. “Then you're shit outta luck,” he replied. “But I don't think it has. Jo was always something of a traditionalist, in is own, narcissistic way.”

“The harbour,” I said, breathless. “That's probably the best lead we've got.”

“Look, Clary,” Luke cut in. “I'm glad I could help, but you've got to promise me you're not going to go haring off on some doomed rescue mission.”

I forced myself to meet his gaze. “We won't,” I said quietly, wondering if werewolves really could smell lies.

Luke watched me for a long moment but finally just shook his head.

Jace shifted uncomfortably beside me. “We should get going,” he said.

“He's right,” I muttered with a reluctant glance at Luke.

Luke nodded. “Just be careful,” he said, unconsciously echoing Jace's words from before.

As I turned to leave, a nagging thought made me look back. “You're not going to turn us in to Maryse are you?”

He snorted. “Maryse is great and all,” he said, “but I don't want you in that house any more than you want to be there.”

I bit my lip. “Thanks.”

He frowned. “But, since she'd not here to do it,” he said, “I probably ought to remind you not to let your glyphs wear down like that.” He nodded to Jace.

“You don't say,” Jace muttered sourly.

“He doesn't have a stele,” I put in, before Jace tried to escalate things.

Luke pursed his lips, considering, then sighed abruptly and slid open the cutlery drawer. A moment later he withdrew a small, worn stele. “Here,” he said gruffly, handing it to Jace. “It's old, but it works and it's not like it's any use to me these days.”

I looked at him curiously. “So, why keep it?”

He shrugged. “Just sentimental, I guess.”

I raised an eyebrow. Luke was a lot of things but I wouldn't have called him sentimental. Jace took the stele awkwardly with a quiet mutter of thanks and turned for the door.

“Clary,” Luke said as I made to follow. “Be careful. I mean it. You know how dangerous these people are.”

“I will,” I told him. That at least wasn't a lie.

He nodded and said, “Go on. It's late.”

I caught up with Jace a short ways down the block; apparently he'd decided that waiting was beneath him.

“So,” I said, straining a little to keep up. “You have a stele, we have a plan – not bad for a day's work, I think.”

“What plan,” Jace grumbled.

I looked at him sharply. “The harbour, like Luke said.”

“'The harbour' isn't a plan,” he snapped. “You can't just run headfirst into everything without thinking.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You're lecturing me about impulse control?”

He rolled his eyes and looked away. “Say we go to the harbour – say we find where they're hiding. What then?”

I hesitated. I hadn't really thought that far. “I didn't think you'd be bothered by a little risk,” I muttered.

“I'm not,” he said sharply. Then he sighed. “Look, I get that you want you're mom back, but if you keep running around like this you're going to get yourself killed.”

I scowled at him. “What?” I said. “Only you're allowed to do that?”

His jaw clenched. “If we don't get her out this time, we probably won't get another shot,” he said. “So let's try not to fuck up, okay?”

“Fine,” I replied. “What's your plan?”

“These bastards are always one step ahead of us,” he said. “We need to scout them out and see what we're up against.”

“That's what I said,” I snapped.

Jace narrowed his eyes. “I'm talking about a stakeout,” he told me, “not a rescue mission – not yet. That means you can't go tearing off after the first Filii bastard you see.”

I glared back at him but said nothing. As if I was the one with no self control.

“We go to the harbour,” Jace went on, “we figure out where they're hiding and what they're up to, and then -” He paused, eyeing me warily “- we go back to the hotel to make a plan.”

I didn't much appreciate him treating me like some reckless idiot but his plan was solid. “Agreed,” I said at last.

I thought I saw a flicker of surprise across jace's features but it vanished almost immediately. “Good,” he said after a moment. Then, “Come here.”

“Why?”

“So I can give you a glyph,” he snapped. “Luke's right: we're safer if the mundanes can't see us.”

I scowled but stepped closer and offered him my arm, already scarred with faded glyphs. I closed my eyes, wincing as Jace pressed his borrowed stele to my skin, the blade biting deep into my shoulder. The pain passed quickly and I looked up to see Jace carving a matching symbol into his own arm. He continued carving dark shapes into his body until he almost looked like himself again.

As he finished the last glyph, I saw his shoulders relax ever so slightly. “Let's go,” he said, tucking the stele back into his pocket.

I nodded and we set off for the harbour.

It was nearly midnight by the time we got there. My heart raced as I took in the first few ships where they loomed over the dark water but Jace took us in almost the opposite direction.

“Where are you going?” I hissed under my breath. “The boats are that way.”

“Higher ground,” Jace replied. “We need a better vantage point.”

I resisted the urge to grumble under my breath as he led us away from where my mother was being held and toward a tallish building with an accessible fire escape. Jace, with his various glyph-given super-powers had a much easier time of it than I did but with a little effort, we both reached the roof intact. Save for a truly ungodly number of pigeons, it looked like no one had been to the roof in a long time.

“We're not supposed to be up here,” I murmured.

“Then it's a good thing we're invisible,” Jace replied, smiling wryly. “Look.”

I turned my head. Jace had been right. I could see far more of the harbour from here than from up close. At the same time, though, the distance made me feel like nothing more than a helpless spectator. It wasn't a great feeling.

“What now?” I asked.

Jace shrugged and sat on the edge of the roof, swinging around so that his legs hung over the side. “Now we wait,” he said. “And try to spot some Filii.”

I hated waiting – I'd much rather be doing something, taking action – but if Jace could manage it, so could I. So I sat down beside him and looked out over the harbour.

A few minutes passed in silence and then I shook my head, chuckling quietly. “This is ridiculous,” I muttered. “All we need is some bad coffee and some binoculars and we have a classic, cop movie stakeout.”

“We're not cops,” Jace said.

I snorted. “You don't say.”

We lapsed back into silence and I turned my attention to the boats. All in all, it made for dull viewing. The boats just sat there, still and quiet, and the few passersby showed no signs of being Filii. More than once I caught myself lost in thought, imagining how we would get my mom out or what was happening to her right now. Which only served to aggravate my growing restlessness.

Eventually I couldn't take it any more. I swung myself around to start pacing back and forth across the roof. Jace looked back at me over his shoulder, an expression of mild concern on his face.

“What's the matter with you?”

“This is useless,” I snapped. “We should be doing something, not just sitting here!”

“Like what?” he said. “You want to go ship to ship, knocking on doors to see if Whitehawk answers?”

“Why not?” I shot back. “It's not like this is getting us anywhere.”

Jace sighed. “It's been less than an hour, Clary. Give it time.”

“We don't have time,” I muttered. “My mom doesn't have time.”

Jace shook his head and turned back to the harbour. “Just sit down,” he said. “I've done this before. I know what I'm doing.”

I walked back to the edge but didn't sit. “This isn't like hunting demons with Alec and Isabelle,” I said.

Jace shot me an odd look over his shoulder, only to look away again a moment later. “I know,” he said. “I told you, I've done this before.”

I glared at the back of his head for a long moment before sighing and turning to glare at the boats instead.

It was an arduous and mind-numbing task. We must have been there for hours and my joints were stiff and aching by the time Jace pointed and I heard him say, “Look, there.”

I followed the line of his hand to see two figures on the street below us, each covered in curling black tattoos. A strange darkness seemed to follow after them as they walked, faint enough that I almost dismissed is as a mere shadow before remembering the incorporeal demon that had attacked us in the warehouse.

I leaned forward and narrowed my eyes, trying to take in every detail. I realized I was holding my breath and forced myself to let it out, my heart racing. I watched in silent anticipation as they turned and boarded on of the smaller boats, some distance away.

“Can you see the name?” I murmured, my voice barely audible. I couldn't quite make it out but Jace's shadowhunter super-powers might give him an advantage.

“Alexa,” he said at last, his voice no louder than mine.

I bit my lip. “I can't believe it,” I said at last. “We found her.”

Jace met my eyes and, to my surprise, he smiled.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter's crazy overdue! Assignments have been eating up all my free time. Anyway, hope you enjoy.

I barely noticed the train ride home. My mind was turning a mile a minute thinking about my mom.

As the door of out hotel room clicked shut behind us, Jace said. “We need a plan.”

I turned to him sharply. “We know where my mom is and we're armed.” I gestured at the duffel full of weapons. “What more do we need?”

“Nothing,” he said, “unless you actually want to get your mother back.”

I narrowed my eyes. “So what do we need?” I said again.

Jace shrugged at sat on the edge of his bed. “A car, for starters,” he replied.

I shifted my weight unhappily. “Well, if you want to call Alec and ask him, be my guest,” I said.

Jace shook his head. “Can't ask Alec. He'll tell Maryse the first chance he gets.”

“Well, I'm not asking Luke,” I said. “We just promised him we wouldn't do anything stupid and I'm pretty sure this counts. There's no way he'll help us.”

“We don't need him,” Jace told me. “You can steal a car, just like you did today.”

I looked back at him blankly for a moment, waiting for him to elaborate on that brilliant plan. “Stealing cars is complicated,” I said at last. “It's not like I can just take whatever car I feel like – I need an old one. Even then, hotwiring cars is tricky and a lot of stuff can go wrong.”

“You didn't have a problem before,” Jace said coolly.

“I didn't have a bunch of Filii trying to kill me before,” I snapped. “And it still took half an hour. I only did it because we didn't have any other choice; now we do.”

“Like what?” Jace shot back.

I grimaced, but he was right. We weren't exactly drowning in options.

“We find a car tomorrow,” he said. “We take it to the docks and you make sure its running when I come out with your mom.”

I stared at him for a long moment, at a loss. “You're kidding, right?” I said finally. “You don't actually think I'm going to sit this out?”

Jace looked uncomfortable. “If something goes wrong in there, the last thing we want is to give Whitehawk another hostage.”

I narrowed my eyes. “If something goes wrong, we're both going to be glad to have backup.” I shook my head. “What happens if my mom can't walk? And remember we have the stupid painting to worry about, too – what were you planning to do? Fight your way out with the painting in one hand and my mom in the other? And that's assuming you can even find her since its not like you have a map.”

“You manged to find us last time,” he muttered.

“That's different,” I trailed off, my mind racing. “A map,” I breathed. “I'm such an idiot.”

“What is it?”

“That's how I found you last time,” I told him, the words coming out in a rush. “I had a map.”

“Of the warehouse?” Jace asked slowly.

“Of wherever my mom is,” I said. Then, by way of explanation, I added, “Magnus gave it to me.”

“Magnus Bane?” There was a slight edge to Jace's voice.

“Obviously.”

Jace sat back. “Then I have a map.”

“You don't have a map,” I muttered. “I'm the only one who can read it.” I bit my lip. “And it's still at Blackstone.”

Of course it was. It was the one thing I had that could actually help us find my mom, so of course I'd left it behind.

Jace looked thoughtful for a moment. “I can get it,” he said at last.

I shook my head. “Everyone at Blackstone started losing their shit once we left. You go in there and you're not coming back out.”

Jace frowned. “How do you know?”

“Simon texted me,” I replied with a shrug. “I guess Alec thought we were hiding at his place...”

I trailed off, my lips pulling up in a smile. “I can ask Simon,” I said, pulling out my phone.

“No,” Jace said, but I was already dialing.

The phone rang a few times before Simon answered. “Clary?” he said, his voice oddly strained.

“Simon,” I said, my eyes lighting up. “I need a favour.”

“Okay,” he said in that same tone. Then, “I have to ask you something and I want you to really thing carefully about your answer.”

I frowned. “Okay.”

“Whatever this favour is, did you really need to call about it at three in the morning?”

I glanced sharply at the clock on the wall and winced. I hadn't realized how late it was. “Sorry,” I said. “You want I should call back later?'

“Well, I'm up now,” Simon grumbled. “What do you want?”

“I need you to get something from Blackstone and bring it to me – I'll text you the address.”

“What is it?”

“The map Magnus gave me,” I said. “It's tucked in the second drawer of the dresser with my camera.”

“Okay.”

“Can you do it?”

“Yeah I can do it,” he grumbled. “In the morning. I'm not breaking in in the middle of the night.”

“Of course,” I said, checking my impatience. Rushing things wasn't going to help.

“Now, I'm going to get some sleep,” Simon muttered. “You should, too.”

When I put the phone away, I turned to see Jace regarding me with an expression of unhappy resignation.

“The mundane's going?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said shortly. “Simon is going to help.”

“When will he get here?”

I shrugged. “Some time tomorrow morning.”

“Great.”

“Not bad for a day's work, huh?” I said. “I might be bad company but at least I'm not as much of a drag as you thought.”

“You're not bad company,” Jace replied quietly.

I raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? After the fuss you made this morning/”

“I don't mind having you around,” he said – high praise, coming form him. “I just think it's irresponsible.”

I shook my head. “Yeah, well, that's my problem, not yours.”

He looked at me for a long moment, his pale eyes implacable. Then he sighed. “All I'm saying is, you're impulsive -”

“I'm impulsive?”

He continued as if I hadn't spoken. “And when things get personal, following your first impulse is usually a bad idea.”

I pursed my lips. “Like you chasing after Lydia?”

His expression hardened abruptly. “You don't know what you're talking about,” he said.

“No, I don't,” I muttered. “Since you don't tell me anything.”

“It's none of your business, Clary,” Jace snapped, getting to his feet and crossing the room, his back to me.

I sighed. “I'm sorry,” I said, “it's just... it's all pretty one-sided: all my personal drama is out there in the open but I don't know anything about you.”

He turned, putting his back to the wall. “Good,” he said shortly.

“Not good,” I countered. “Friends tell each other stuff.”

“We're not friends,” he replied, shoving his hands into his pockets.

I shook my head, my jaw tight. “Fine,” I said. “Whatever. Don't talk to me.”

“Trust me, Clary, the less you know, the better.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” I demanded. “What are you so afraid to tell me?”

I could see the muscle in his jaw working. “Nothing," he said finally.

I raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“You wouldn't understand,” he muttered.

“Not if you won't talk to me.”

“No,” he replied sharply. “You wouldn't understand because nothing bad has ever happened to you.”

I stared at him, taken aback. “Are you kidding me?”

“Come on,” he snapped. “The worst thing you've ever had to deal with was finding out your mom lied and your dad wasn't perfect.”

It was a few frantic heartbeats before I could form words. “Fuck you,” I manged finally, and started toward the door.

“Wait,” Jace said hurried. “Clary, wait.”

He caught my arm and I wheeled on him. “No, I get it,” I snapped, my heart racing. “Sure, my mom could be dying and my dad's a genocidal maniac, but at least I have a dad right?”

He winced. “That's not what I meant.”

“Fine,” I said thinly. “Explain.”

He hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “All that stuff's outside you. It's not who you are.”

“What?”

He took a step back and tried again. “You're not a bad person,” he said finally.

I took a deep breath, drawing on my short supply of patience. “People aren't good or bad,” I told him. “They're just people.”

“You don't get it,” he muttered, looking away.

He stood there in silence for a long moment and when he spoke again, the words came out in something of a rush. “When I was eight, the Filii killed my dad – Lydia killed my dad. After that, things got bad for a while until -”

He faltered and cleared his throat. “Some people found me and said they wanted to help. They gave me a place to stay and the next best thing to a family. They told me they could help me get back at the Filii, that I could be a part of something bigger.”

He swallowed, not meeting my eyes. “There were a bunch of us: kids strong enough to fight but small enough to get into places adults couldn't. There were some older kids, too, but not many; most didn't last that long.”

He seemed to get lost for a moment and shook himself. “Anyway, when I was thirteen, Central Authority raided the building where we were staying. They arrested all the adults and but everyone under seventeen into temporary care to await the juvenile trials.” After a slight hesitation, he added, “That's how I met Maryse.”

I stared at him for a long moment, at a loss for words.

“Say something,” Jace burst out at last, a quiet desperation colouring his voice.

“I'm so sorry,” I managed, the words barely more than a whisper. Jace had been a child soldier. While I'd been learning to paint with my mother, he'd been learning how to kill people. They – whoever 'they' were – had used him as cannon fodder for nearly five years... “I'm so sorry,” I said again.

Jace looked at me like I was a snake. “You're sorry?” he asked, disbelieving. “I killed people, Clary! I'm a murderer.”

“You were a kid!” I replied. “It wasn't your fault.”

Jace shook his head, brushing off the words. “They never lied to me,” he said. “I knew what I was doing.”

“You were a kid!” I said again, adamant. “Kids make bad choices; they took advantage.”

“I killed people,” Jace repeated, like he didn't think I understood what he meant. “Innocent people – how are you okay with that?”

“Do I look okay?”

He stopped short, then nodded once, his lips twitching with the miserable satisfaction of having one's pessimism proved true. “Good,” he said, his voice thick with conflicting emotions.

I wilted. “That's not what I meant,” I said, stepping closer.

“I know what you meant,” Jace snapped. “That's why I don't tell you things; you don't want to know that shit!”

“Jace -”

“You don't want to hear about the bombs I planted!” His voice was rising. “You don't want to know about the CA officers I shot – 'cause they hesitated, 'cause they didn't want to shoot a kid.”

“It wasn't your fault,” I said again.

“Bullshit,” Jace hissed, and I shrunk back from the bitter anger in his voice. “So, go ahead and tell me there are no bad people, but you don't know what they fuck you're talking about.”

“What do you want from me?” I said, my hands clenching in helpless frustration.

He hardly seemed to hear me. “Just stop!” he burst out. “Stop making excuses – stop trying to pretend everything's fine!”

He was breathing heavily now, a harsh mask of anger and disgust across his features. This wasn't helping.

“Okay,” I said, holding up a steadying hand, but he wasn't done arguing.

I stared at him as he ranted, desperate to do something but unsure of what to do. He'd stopped listening to me, but even if he hadn't, I didn't have the first clue what to say. All I could do was stand there and watch him unravel before my eyes.

Not stopping to think, I reached up and kissed him.

He froze abruptly, his shoulders tensing, but then softened, his hands coming to rest uncertainly on my hips. I closed my eyes and leaned into him, surprised by how comforting that closeness was.

After a long moment, I drew back and Jace's hands fell away loosely. I looked up to see him regarding me with a quizzical expression.

“Why did you do that?” he asked after a brief hesitation.

I shrugged awkwardly. “Why not?”

I could have kicked myself. That was all I could think to say?

Jace's brows drew down in confusion and I stepped back.

“I'm gonna take a shower,” I announced abruptly. Then I turned and fled before Jace could say anything else.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update folks! Caught up with what I had written and I've been super busy with school and other life nonsense. Hope you like the chapter. Hopefully more to come soon.

I woke earlier than I would have liked. It took scarcely an instant for everything to come rushing back. So much had happened, it was hard to believe we'd left Blackstone only the night before. And, if all went well, we might have my mother back in a few hours – but that subject raised enough impatient anxiety that is was best not to think about it until Simon arrived with my map.

I reached for my phone. No new texts from Simon, but it was only eight o'clock so that wasn't necessarily a reason to panic.

With some substantial effort I put the phone down and forced myself to think about something else. I still didn't know what to do with everything Jace had told me. It explained a lot, though it had raised more than a few new questions. Certainly it hadn't raised the moral indignation Jace seemed to have expected.

And then there was the other thing...

I still wasn't entirely sure why I did it or how I felt about it. I wasn't sure how Jace felt about either, since I'd avoided talking to him last night and I wasn't about to raise the subject now. A tentative glance towards Jace's bed told me that it was empty; I was alone in the hotel room.

I'd only gotten five hours of sleep, which was less than ideal, and Jace had clearly been up before me. Did he ever sleep? It was a miracle he could still function.

The sound of footsteps outside caught my attention and I turned sharply to look at the door just as Jace stepped inside with a coffee in one hand and a McDonald's breakfast sandwich in the other.

He froze abruptly when he saw that I was awake, the tension written across his features mirror the anxious feeling in my gut.

After too long a pause, I said, “Hi.”

He closed the door bhind him. “The coffee is shit,” he said, handing me the cup before crossing to the other side of the room.

“Thanks...” I replied, uncertain.

“Any sign of the mundane?”

“Simon,” I corrected sharply. “Not yet.” Compulsively, I checked my phone again. Nothing.

A heavy silence settled over the room. I was excessive conscious of the rustle of fabric and the squeak of tired mattress springs every time I made the slightest movement.

Finally I broke in with, “I'm sure he'll be fine though. He's good at talking his way out of stuff.” After a moment, I added, “Or into stuff.”

Jace didn't answer and we lapsed back into silence.

The tangible discomfiture in the room grated on me. I almost got up to take a shower just to escape before remembering I'd already used that excuse mere hours ago. Instead I sipped my coffee and waited for my phone to buzz.

Jace was right; the coffee was bad. I didn't even mind that it had twice as much sugar as I usually added, since the excessive sweetness nearly masked the taste – nearly, but not quite. Still, it was hot and caffeinated and gave me something to focus on besides Jace and my mom.

Eventually the coffee was done and I found myself tearing at the rim with anxious fingers. There was hardly anything left when a knock at the door made me lurch to my feet. I hurried to the door and peered through the eyehole.

Simon. Finally.

I threw the door open hastily. “Simon,” I said, a little too loudly. “You're here!”

“I'm here,” he agreed, giving me a sidelong look. After a moment, his eyes slid past me to Jace. At last, he stepped inside, closing the door firmly behind him. “You feeling alright, Fray?”

“I'm fine,” I replied.

Simon narrowed his eyes. “Well, it's hella awkward in here,” he said then.

I tried not to wince.

“Anyway, I got your piece of paper,” he said, holding it out to me. “And your camera, too. Thought you might want it back.”

“Thanks.” As I took the paper from him, thin red lines began to spread across the surface, pulsing faintly, just like before. It took a second or two for me to find the brighter spot, like a beating heart, from which the pulses seemed to originate. My mother.

I swallowed, fighting back a sudden rush of emotion.

“So,” Simon said, “Are you going to tell me what's going on?”

“Nothing,” Jace snapped.

“Didn't ask you,” Simon told him blandly. “Fray?”

I hesitated, looking up from the map, but it was a little late to keep Simon out of it. “We're looking for my mom,” I said at last.

“Well, obviously,” Simon replied. “But, like, what's your plan?”

I blinked, caught a little off guard. “Well... we're still figuring that out,” I admitted.

“That's reassuring,” he muttered.

“But having the map will help,” I put in quickly. Then I sighed. “We know where she is – we tracked her down last night to a boat in the harbour called 'Alexa' – but actually getting her out is a little complicated.”

“You don't say.”

“Right,” I said. “The thing is, it's not just my mom we're after. We have to get the cup out too.”

“Clary!” Jace's sudden outburst was a mix of alarm and disapproval but I wasn't about to apologize. I trusted Simon; Jace just had to trust me.

Simon raised an eyebrow. “I thought we were done looking for that thing.”

“We found it – sort of.”

“And?”

I looked to Jace but he only glared back at me, his jaw set.

I bit my lip. “My mom put it in a painting,” I said finally. “Don't ask me what that means. Whitehawk has it.”

Simon frowned. “That doesn't sound good.”

“You don't say,” Jace echoed coldly.

Simon considered for a moment. “So, you know where your mom and the cup are?”

“More or less.”

“Then what's missing?” he pressed. “What else do you need?”

I glanced at Jace. “We're having some logistical issues,” I admitted. “Jace wants to go in alone but there's no way I'm sitting this out – especially when I'm the only one who can read the map.”

“So what's the problem.”

“The getaway,” I explained. Then I looked at Simon and cocked my head. “Did you drive here?”

“Yes...” He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, then sighed. “I see where this is going. Fine, I'll help.”

“We don't need his help,” Jace snapped.

“Yes we do,” I replied. “Thanks, Simon. I owe you one.”

He shook his head. “Fray, you owe me so many I've stopped counting. But that's what friends are for, right?” He took a deep breath and at last he said, “Alright. If we're going to do this, we're going to do it properly. Let's get to work.”

A little over an hour later, we were parked in a small side street about a half a block from the boat where the Filii were hiding. It was more ground than I'd want to cover in a hurry but any closer would be dangerously conspicuous.

I looked anxiously out the window of Simon's car, surveying the harbour – what I could see of it, anyway. One of the many glyphs Jace had carved along my arms had enhanced my sight so that everything I saw seemed brighter, the edges more distinct. My hearing, too, was sharpened and I told myself it was that and not my growing panic that made my heart sound as loud as a jackhammer in my ears.

It had taken a great deal argument – not all of it civil – but we had finally come up with a plan that mostly satisfied everyone. Jace and I would go in while Simon waited with the car. I'd look for my mom while Jace looked for the painting, but whatever we found first, we'd take and get out – and not look back.

We'd given ourselves a time limit - half an hour to get in an get out, whether we found what we were looking for or not. It wasn't much time for a rescue mission but longer we spent on that boat, the higher the risk that we wouldn't make it out at all.

None of us were especially happy about that part of the plan, but that was the way it had to be. The only thing worse than failing now was failing and giving Whitehawk two more hostages.

Simon took a deep breath. “Here we are,” he said, not quite able to disguise the anxiety in his voice. “Any last words?”

I looked at Jace. Neither of us said anything.

At last, Simon nodded, his hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel. “Okay,” he said. “Then get going. Thirty minutes starts now.”

I got out of the car and started the timer on my phone, walking towards the boat at a brisk pace. Jace was beside me in an instant and, for once, I didn't have to struggle to keep up with him. I scanned the sidewalk nervously as we drew closer, looking for any sign of Filii guards. The harbour was more crowded than it had been when we were there the night before but none of the people I saw had any telltale shadowhunter glyphs.

An older woman stood on Alexa's deck at the top of the ramp, blocking our path – not a shadowhunter, but not a bystander either.

Demon, then. My stomach clenched and I glanced at Jace but he'd already seen her. He drew his knife and I followed suit, gripping the hilt uneasily. I would have preferred my gun, but even if they couldn't see us, there was no way the passersby could miss the sound of gunshots.

As we reached the base of the ramp, Jace caught my eye and nodded once. Then he rushed the demon.

Damn, but he was fast. She – it? – barely had time to react before he reached her but as he drove his knife toward her neck, her flesh seemed to melt away, turning to impenetrable scales. Ravener.

I ran towards them, my heart racing. The last time I'd dealt with a demon like this, it's poison had knocked me out for half a day and I didn't have time for that now. I dodged the lashing scorpion's tail and slammed into the creature, knocking it to the ground. Here and there, I could feel sharp pricks of pain where the barbed scales bit into my skin but I clung on tightly to keep the demon off of Jace. If I could just hold it down long enough...

Jace didn't waste any time. He brought the knife down again and buried it in the demon's left eye.

The demon twitched once and went limp and I let go abruptly, scrambling out from underneath. As it crumpled and vanished into nothing, I checked the timer on my phone. Twenty-six minutes and forty-nine seconds. We had to get moving.

I caught Jace's eye as he wiped the knife clean on his shirt. “Come on,” I said, my voice no louder than a whisper.

He nodded agreement and together we made our way into the heart of the boat.


End file.
